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20

Pachelbel: Canon in D

Old Gotham Cathedral. Ancient Cathedral. Everything was barred, windows falling off, an old haunting castle. Strange and beautiful. Pigeons cawed from the top of the altar, staring to us in curiosity. They flew away the moment the Joker slammed the priest into the back wall. Pointing his knife into his neck, whispering to him in hushed tones.

Simon side-glanced.

I wouldn't dare run even if he did look elsewhere. "He trusts you," I lost the shawl, it's gone, nothing to keep warm, nothing to hide the past. "I know that sounds impossible. That he actually trusts somebody other than himself. But he does."

He blinked, still watching the interrogation. I waddled closer, almost touching his arm. If this is what it took to feel safe again, I was going to cling to whatever was near. And this huge person was the only thing that met those standards. We bumped together, he doesn't move, simply looked to where we were touching. No clown mask. He wasn't wearing a mask. The first time I was actually seeing who he was. And what I saw nearly caused a temperature raise. Nothing compared to the usual henchmen now rotting in the van.

He was gorgeous. Ruggedly so.

He held sex appeal so naturally as if he had no clue as to what the charm required. Perfect formulation of a mouth, nothing like a woman's but of a man's criteria for an attractive feature. Nose, pointed in sophistication. A thick scar slashed through his right brow as though it couldn't grow back from how horrible the damage once was. Various other blemishes were placed around his face and neck, battle wounds. Spiked black hair, shaved slightly on the sides but not nearly as obnoxious as others would wear. Slightly shadowed, not of mature growth but of a clean appearance, an effortless cut. And strong, so very strong, abnormally so. Muscles weren't too great but rather of an intimidating size. Who was he, really? His name was an alias. There's no way a man like this could be called Simon.

Still staring into our arms, he skimmed his further, like the touch revolted him. But he merely brushed against the jeweled belt before intertwining his hand with mine. I could have jolted but the way he stared. As if saying it was alright, that my need for his presence, for his security was alright. That he wasn't going to let anything happen. Anything he considered dangerous according to his standards. Which could be either dangling from an apartment duplex or a skyscraper. And he was dangerous, another unfortunate factor but yet I attached myself to him from the beginning. Even though I didn't have a choice with a high fever but it felt comforting to have him here.

Why was he with the Joker?

The priest yelled in pain, raising his hands over his head. He dragged him under the altar, twirling around with Simon gracefully stepping to the side as soon as he finished twirling into his place. I clenched my hand from the new emptiness, I need something to hold onto.

"Now, just like I said-"

"And just like I said, I'm not performing a marital ceremony between you and this woman when I have no consent from her. I'm not joining you with her under god in a holy place. You are nothing less than evil and violence-"

"See, that's where you're wrong Goosey. I believe He loves violence. Want to know why? Because there's so much of it. People wage war, burn sacrifices, pillage and plunder and tear the flesh. And why? Because He gave us violence to wage in his honor."

"God gave us moral order, not violence."

"There's no moral order as pure as what's happening right now. Now," points gun. "Continue the ceremony or I'll send a moral bullet straight through your moral head."

The priest and I stared as if we were both waiting for me to run. But I couldn't. A slim, cold object rammed across my knuckle, the one ringer now bearing a heavy burden. But not before he slipped Bruce's ring off, tossing it over his shoulder. It fell to the broken floor, splinters causing an obstacle as it rolled until toppling flat.

And I just watched it all happen with no strength to catch or run to it. There was this new thing here, this new metal resting deep into my skin. It was beautiful.

Of course it was. There's no denying the beauty of the purple diamond or the emerald vines intertwining around the diamond as a frame. "Customized," the Joker whispered. "Just for you."

"How sweet. A ring with your trademark colors. I couldn't have asked for a more devoted husband than you." Sarcasm and venom ripped through, glaring with as much as I could. A precious gem perhaps but no more precious than the love I held for Bruce. He doesn't understand what he's done and would never receive any affection in return.

He yanked me hard into him. "Well I could always add another color if you like. How's red do for you? Dark, deep and endless red. It'll look even better around your white fingers," jerked me back but still held tight. "Go," he ordered the priest who was shaking his head.

"Just do it," I pleaded, shaking with him. "Please. I can't have anyone else hurt."

Still hesitating, he began with the words I imagined hearing with Bruce. But that's something I can only imagine, not live. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered-"

"Yadda yadda yadda. You want to keep breathing, skip to the important part."

"Do-do you," he paused, having trouble with how he should say this. "... Joker take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Indeed I do. Forever and ever. Now ask her," he looked around as if expecting Batman to break the door. He wasn't.

The priest looked as though in grave apology. I nodded, this wasn't his fault.

"Do you Renee," his hands shaking. "Take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Now I was shaking and it wasn't just my hands.

Voice cracked, eyes shut, knees weakened. "Yes." Down I go, knees gave, hitting the hard floor with a hurtful break. This should have happened long before.

"Oh!" the Joker laughed. "Always so clumsy. Here sweetums, let me help you back up. Say the rest!" he practically held a stance for both.

"No, this isn't right."

"Simon," who grabbed another gun from his pocket and shot the priest in the shoulder.

I lurched forward as though to catch him but he fell. "Say it!" and was pulled back.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," he tried to say more but couldn't, he was gone.

Vigorously now, I shook no, making it hard for him to kiss. But he smashed us together.

Slow and disturbing.

His lips were on mine, it felt like he was drawing blood. He pulled away, staring into his work rather surprised. "Ah yes, the art of kissing. I do believe I have mastered it. We'll get that paint off of you later. It is getting me all hot though. Simon, check on Papa. We got to get going."

"Alright, alright," he whined and scoped me up the way grooms do when they carry their brides into the hotel room or a new house. "Just leave him Simon. I don't want to waste any more time, let's go!"

Simon dropped the priest like a sack of potatoes.

Mascara traveled harder, staining and blackening. The devil-may-care type of tears. But the devil does care in some sadistic way. He's the one still holding me up. Still gazing into his work, the way his paint was smeared, the black liquid dripping along his red. Singing the wedding song to himself, Simon not far behind.

"Da da dum dum da da dum dum. You've just made one clown a very happy man," steps out into the cold fog. "And we have our whole lives for me to return the favor."

T h e E n d

a / n

Yes, you're probably staring into the screen blinking like a maniac, hyperventilating, crying... okay, I'll stop over exaggerating :) It is the end. But cheer up my loyal and beautiful readers! A Sequel shall be coming.

I'm not stopping bc I love writing it.

Thank you so much to everyone just reading this. Really, hope it was good though?

For all of you who have reviewed, you have no idea how much I adore you!

For all of you who read it through all the way, you have no idea how incredible you are!

~*JrOeKnEeRe*~