His Har Har Lee Chapter 25, a batman begins/dark knight fanfic

a/n: a VERY special thank you to my awesome readers: Gamine Madcap, Les Yeux Violets, CaptainJacksBabe, PFpandas, Ashley, ChildOfFate17, Veretai, cRiMsOnGoDdEsS01, College Chica, PhantasmBunny, Veretai, GryffindorHyuuga, Mournsong, Honey450, somethingquestionable, put_here_2_feel_joy, ChrsitineDae17, Penultimate, manhattan please, Lucky Duck 24, Gamine Madcap, tryliving, JokerSmile, LoveAndCoughDrops, giggi02, partbritishtowhead, knit-wear, Jilander-Napier, ScarlettWaters, SpiritFanNumber1, ThenIDefyYouStars, shaid, Taluliaka, Heir to the World, anndddd sooooo many more lovely folks. You keep my painted world from turning to black&white 

also, double kudos & shoutouts to my inspirational friend, Paul. This chapter and the next goes to him, as well as my crazy lunchtime friends, even though they don't read this lol. I threatened them with cafeteria food to help me with an idea.

I do hope you lovelies weren't as harshly struck by the fantabulous-snow-day-galore ice storm as us Kentuckians. Stay safe & warm out there, peeps. & keep up the support with your loverly Reviews. Hugglez and kisses.

Also, word or warning: this first part of the chapter is more from Joker/Josh's point of view. Let's face it…Lee probably doesn't have a lot to say with the puke coming out like Niagara Falls….and I just had a very disturbing image. Ew. Nor can she really think much when…well…you'll see.

Final warning: flashback is a bit dark. If you don't like, don't read.

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"Are you off your damn hinge?"

Matthew pushed himself further against the car's frame, bracing himself as his livid boss squared shoulders at him and balled his fists. "Look, if you want her to drown in her own blood, then by all means, boss, go ahead." He swallowed.

Joker glared at him. He had no idea where this sudden backbone in his henchman was coming from. He'd obviously been setting a bad example and letting Lee get by too easily with too much. Give them an inch, and they run a mile.

"Why can't you do i-t?"

"'Cause I don't give a shit for that bitch."

Instantly, he was up against the car with a knife to his neck. Joker leered over him, tongue worrying his lips and scars. He popped his lips, and then pulled them apart to bare yellowed teeth at Matthew's quivering fear. Like he could taste the fear. Matthew was shaken violently back and forth as Josh took his anger out on the tattered man. Only one thing could stop him. The sound of Lee's hoarse cough reached his ears.

Eyes screwed up at his forehead in worrisome thought, he paused.

"She's your girl. But if she were mine," Matthew was choked off temporarily by excessive weight. Joker's eyebrows shot up threateningly. "B-but if I had a…girl…puking…that much…I'd care 'nough…to take her…to help…"

"Le-t me get this…straight-t, Matty. You expect me…to just let that Low Bar man…take…mine…alone…into a top-surveillance hos-pit-al? And just…sit by without so much as lifting one fucking finger to coerce said nicotine-driven enforcements?" Joker was shaking with barely restrained control, trying so hard not to snap his delicate man in two pieces. He'd found that henchmen were as fragile as China dolls these days. But, he supposed, China had plenty of toy factories to shop from.

There was a beat of silence, then, "That's not at all what I'm saying."

"Didn't. Thin-k. So."

Matthew inhaled sharply. "I'm saying you need to persuade Barlow into wanting to take your ex-wife—"

"Wife," Joker interrupted bitterly.

"—wife to the hospital. A little encouragement, of your sort. Make him think he's in control of the situation."

Josh licked at his lips hungrily. "Control doesn'-t. Exist. There's a, ah, point when a man tries…but fails all because he lets emotion. Get in. The way. Take you for example. Now, Matty, I really like ya, I really do. But I can't let a little thing like our feelings for each other," his voice dropped an octave, shakily, as he pulled out a gun, "get in fate's fucking way."

Matthew took a step away, but Joker was on him in an instant. "I'll give you a goo-duh…reason to take her in yourself."

"Dad?"

Joker rolled his eyes impatiently. "Wha-t?" He bowed his head slightly against Matthew's backed-up form, and muttered deadly low, "You damn spawn of mine."

Matthew coughed. "Haven't been a father for long, have you?"

"Ya know, that kid has save-duh…your worthless, patheti-c excuse for a life t-wice now. Three times and you're out." He pulled back, only to take a short threatening step at Matthew who flinched in kind. "And watch your mouth. Or I'll cut it and some other parts you value off. Tell me, do ya…do ya have a kink for celibacy?"

"Dad!"

"Goddamnit, Christopher!"

He jerked Matthew back against the car and swerved around to the side.

"Boss?"

"Not you fucking too," he grumbled, casting a glare over his shoulder.

"Just…go easier on the kid."

When Joker rounded the car, he found Christopher's back facing him, hovering over his mother, who was busy emptying bile all over the concrete. He watched her for a moment, ignoring his son's frantic pleas. Josh's face fell. He paced over to her. Cool hands wrapped around her hair, and held it back. She leaned into the gesture.

He nearly scooped her up into his arms, when a course of anger rushed through his veins. He suddenly realized his son's frantic pleas weren't directed to him at all. Nor to anyone else there for that rather unfortunate matter. But he was too late to jerk the cell phone from his son's ear. The damage had been done.

"Mom-Mommy always said…and it was an emergency…and you…you weren't doing anything…so I had to," Christopher choked out between hysterical sobs. He broke down against his mother. Lee looked up wearily at Josh, a curtain of hair shadowing half her face. He wished she'd say something so he could yell at her. Half of him wanted to crush her, and the other half wanted to crush her to him.

Hurriedly pulling the phone from a sniveling Christopher, he slipped it back into Lee's jean pocket and reached for her face. She flinched back violently, instincts pulling her son closer. Josh frowned. He rolled his eyes and launched forward, pausing just as suddenly when he caught sight of the spiderwebbed passenger window.

"Lee-sters," he trailed his eyes back to her, reaching for her again. He was faster this time when she jerked, forefinger and thumb trapping her jaw and drawing her to him.

For once, he was at a loss.

"I—I don't—" she swallowed her confusion. He cut her off with a firm kiss, lips eagerly searching her stone-still ones. Josh grew angrier the less responsive she was. He bit at her lip. He could taste her tears, smell her panic as she struggled for air and freedom. Deep inside, it thrilled him that she hated this. That this wasn't what she wanted. That he had to force her to let him be her husband. He growled as her fingers clawed at his bare neck. Trapping her wrists in his hands, he slid his forehead to the crook of her neck, trying to regain control of his emotions. Lee was shaking. Uncontrollably.

And just as quickly, Joker shoved her away from him. Christopher held onto his mother.

She stared at the man before her with dread as he fell back on his haunches then towered above them. "Matt, Ma-tt, Matty. Get my, ah, wife…in the car. It's time for a little…ha, dose of re-al-i-ty for our dear Jer Bear. Someone hasn't been taking his proper medication." He swiveled his wild, unpainted stare to Matthew who instantly attended to Lee. "And we all know how c-razy…people can get without their…fickle…elixirs."

He gave the trunk three sharp raps before skipping giddily to the front seat and sliding in. His mood transcended like a rollercoaster. Joker glared out the window, drumming his fingers against his thighs.

A violently ill wife. A blubbering panicked son. A busybody psychiatric henchman. A love-sick pup held hostage in his trunk. Damn police on the way. And a little girl somewhere, whom he'd roughly shoved out of his way never knowing she was of his own flesh and blood.

He'd heard once that a parent would do anything for their children.

Glancing at Lee, he figured she would adapt to that mindset quickly, if she had to. And would understand, eventually, his reasoning for everything. He wasn't giving her a choice this time.

He grinned. It was a sickly ironic world they lived in.

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I sucked in a sharp breath, and curled in on myself, fighting to ignore the welts that raced across my skin and rose into angry lines and bruises. I tried to calm my erratic heartbeat, honing my vision in on the pitch darkness and imagining myself somewhere else. I wasn't here. I wasn't here. I didn't even know where here was. Bad thought. My neck had twisted itself to glance over my shoulder to ensure my loneliness, but something had been pulled and I bit my lip in some stupid attempt to quiet my uncontrollable shivering.

It was cold.

So very cold. Like I'd been wrapped up in an ice pack. And my body, suddenly noticing just how frightened my mind was, began fighting it. My brain was screaming that something was wrong, and I just needed to lay there and wait. But instinct spit back that I didn't have time to wait. Because Josh was no doubt on his way to kill me.

This whole thing wasn't a drill anymore.

It was reality.

And just as sudden, an overwhelming sense of depression washed over me in pounding waves. I fought it, too. But I was too swamped by the tangled sheets. My legs ached, my arms burned, and my heart wouldn't put itself back together. An invisible weight was tearing me apart, and all I could see was that faceless stranger hovering over me, skin to skin. I raced through my brain for that face, a face to tack onto my story for Josh when he did find me. But there was nothing. It's like my mind had shoved it to the deepest corners of my memory and refused to exploit it.

All I could do was tremble at the horrible sadness weighing me down. My body was screaming at me to alleviate the pain. But all I could focus on was how I had no fucking clue what was going on, what had happened, what I was doing here. I didn't know what was wrong. But wave after wave of grief was suffocating me to the furthest reaches of my head, and locking me up.

Dirty, unclean, used goods. Whore. Tramp. Cheap. Used. Like one of those sluts you laugh at in high school, because you know exactly where they'll end up one day: six feet under with nothing but pet names to lay claim to on their gravestones. I flinched at the names rolling through my head, and choked on the suddenly dry air.

I reached to tug my shirt tighter around me, when I realized I wasn't wearing it.

I wasn't wearing anything.

Fear pumped my adrenaline in a frenzied rush as I tripped out of the bed, teeth tearing through my lips as I tried to keep my whimpering under control. My legs slammed into a chair and it toppled over. Something wet and sticky was now soaking my knee. But all that mattered was that my hands were grappling with reality. They felt like dead lead, rooting me beneath the chair. No matter how many times I blinked, I was sure I'd gone blind. Darkness swelled my tearing eyes. Had it been this dark a minute ago? My face was quivering—I was quivering. Like some earthquake had settled in my bones and refused to leave. I fanned my arm and flinched at the scorching pain. No one heard me. Not even when I started crying again.

Wiping my face against my wrists, I crawled over the chair, until I finally came into contact with my bra and jeans. My shirt was nowhere to be felt. But I didn't care. Blind as a bat, I struggled for my clothes, sluggishly jerking the bra over my tangled mess of hair. When I'd at least captured my jeans, I hurriedly searched for an adjoining bathroom.

Dirty.

I found one set in the back corner, next to the bed. Oh God, I'd never sleep in one again. I'd never sleep again.

Making a point not to look in the mirror, I slammed the lights on and off, enough to twist the hot water and be left alone in the dark. I collapsed underneath the hot spray.

Soap. I ignored the half-moon fingernail marks on my wrists, and scraped my skin with insane fervor. I had to get it off me. The sweat, the grime. It wouldn't come off. I scrubbed harder, till it felt like I'd run my body through a cheese grater.

My lips tasted funny. So I washed those too.

I was so Goddamn angry. At myself. At Josh. For ever letting this happen. I didn't have an answer, and being out of control drove me mad, like a rat in a cage. Because I couldn't explain one damn thing, not to Josh, and especially not to myself. And where the hell was Nathan? It's like he'd completely dropped me off the face of the planet. He'd said we were just dropping by. Just fucking dropping by. Leaves me in the arm of a stranger, with alcohol,, and then vanishes. Josh would kill him if he knew he'd left me like this, and now for some complete stranger to steal my…

No. No. I clenched my thighs tighter together and forced the water to scalding heat. My body was itching and I scratched at it, fingernails tearing. But it wasn't enough.

I didn't want to see.

I didn't want to hear.

I didn't want to feel.

Anything.

Ever.

Again.

The bedroom's door suddenly slammed open, hinges snapping at the sheer force. I curled further underneath the spray. I didn't want them to see me. If they saw me, it'd happen all over again. There was a shout, and a light. Someone was using their cell phone for light. I briefly wondered why they hadn't turned on the light, but then understanding kicked in. They didn't want to be seen. Caught. Found. Shit. Was he back?

My own phone went off, screaming again. The intruder picked it up. "Fan-fucking-tastic." It continued letting out low oaths, as it no doubt discovered my shirt somewhere.

The hot water seeped onto my knee, and this time I couldn't contain the sob that exploded from my lips.

The light whirled around. It paused for a moment. And then came at me with an unstoppable speed. My fingers clenched for the shower's basket of soaps and shampoos. Clenching around something slender, I shook it in front of me, screaming like a banshee. I didn't want it near me. If it got near me, I'd go away again. And I wasn't so sure I could come back this time.

The bathroom's light flipped on. I waved my arm harder, burying my face down against the offending brightness.

"Lee? Harley?"

I shook my head. No. She was dead. I was so sure.

I brandished my weapon again, as the intruder came closer, stooping over and shoving the shower curtain aside. I swiped at him viciously. He let out a snarl. "Drop it."

But I didn't have to let it go. One of his hands clasped gently but firmly around my wrist and I dropped it with a cry. He tugged me closer, but I started screaming again. Flinching, he dropped my hand too, and pulled away, hands at his head. He was pacing, in circles, but I could still feel those eyes on me. Constantly. Like he was waiting for me to up and shave him to death again.

I didn't want to.

No, it was wrong to do that to him. He was innocent.

But I wasn't.

When he'd finally stopped pacing, his back was to me, shoulders hunched and shaking. He was bent, arms braced against the door frame as he no doubt glared down at his shoes. I saw my way out.

It's funny how something so small can end everything. Right? Like, take that razor my hands were now gently fondling for example. The way the blades caught the light made me want to cry. Josh wasn't paying attention. He never paid any attention to me when he was trying to figure out how he was going to deal with things. I squared my shoulders, and then twisted my back sideways to him. I wet the razor in the bubbling stream that was up to my waist now. The drain must have clogged. But it didn't matter.

I brought the cool metal to my skin, and just as I pressed, I pulled it away. There was a line. And then another one. One more, and—

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lee! Drop the razor, NOW!!!"

Too used to submission, my body reacted involuntarily, and the slender tool slipped beneath the water's surface. I balled my fists, and wailed at him, as he pulled me, half naked, out of the shower's steaming vengeance. I hit him. Over and over again. I yelled. That he should just go ahead and kill me, because I couldn't take that I'd been so disloyal to him.

"Shhh, easy there, Lee. C'mere. No, no, shush. Don't…don't do that," he begged. "Lee-sters, stop it. Shit, stop it right now. I don't…I don't know what to do when you're like this." But the pleas faded away when I met his eyes. They were filled with betrayal.

"I—"

"It wasn't your fucking fault," he growled back, jerking me closer. My wet jeans were soaking, and he seemed to have either forgotten or not realized I was only clad in a bra up there. Instead, he pressed me to him, melding us like super glue. His hands were shaking, and pawing at my damp hair. His face was everywhere, nuzzling at my cheek, then burying in my neck, then hair. Like he didn't know how to hold me. He'd crush me, then shove me away, and pull me back again. And I let him, albeit limply, but I still let him.

Something, somewhere, in the back of my head, told me he needed this more than I did.

I fought him, enraged at my selflessness. "Stop it, Lee. Hey, hey, easy girl. There's my girl. No, shush now. Whoa there. Lee, will you shut up and relax?!" He was trying to hold me down. And I guess eventually fatigue won out in the end.

He hauled me up into his arms, wrapping his leather jacket around me. He tucked my head under his chin. "J-Josh, I don't…" I cut myself off. I sounded so damn weak. Frustrated, I tried my voice again, but it failed.

"It's okay, Lee-sters. You're okay. I've got you. No one's gonna hurt you, you hear me? No one's got you but me, Lee. Nothing happened. It's all in your head, easy, okay? No one's gonna touch you. They're not gonna get you."

Oh my God. He didn't know. How could he not know? How could he know? My jeans were covering most of the bruises. It had been too dark for him to make out the bed enough to know I hadn't been the only one in it. He'd only seen me breaking down in a shower, like some depressed, pill-addicted maniac off her bloody fix. Maybe he hadn't realized the phone call, what exactly was going on. But he had to, didn't he?

So I pulled my face up, and immediately confirmed my fears with my next words.

"They already did."

His face said it all.

No, Josh Kerit had no fucking clue I'd been raped.

a/n: thank you all for your reviews  Oh gosh…I loathe James Joyce…my heart goes out to you stuck on him. Thanx for the bday wishes as well. One last clue regarding Topher's name before I spill it in the next a/n: Look closer at his initials and the name itself. It's more of a…creative spin, than anything to do with nolanverse or Batman in general. C'mon, my friend figured it out and he's not even reading this! Christopher Lee Owen. Have at it. And, regarding the name Josh Kerit, I wanted to test a diff. name, instead of Jack Napier. The new name has meaning as well. I'm a sucker for twisting words & letters. Anyway. Enjoy & leave me stuff. I'm contemplating redoing the first chapter to make it longer and quit scaring people away with its boredom. Lemme know what you think. Lovelz peeps.