AN: This story means an awful lot to me. These topics are not to be taken lightly. Hence the M rating. This story has Intimacy (the good kind), Struggles with mental illness, Suicidal thoughts, Rape, and Domestic Violence. Some of the inspiration for this story comes from personal experiences I have faced in my life with domestic abuse.

Arthur's inner thoughts are in BOLD.

Abby's inner thoughts are in ITALIC.

Please read, Follow and enjoy :)

The static on the television echoed in a wave of chaos through Abby's head. Thomas Wayne's face flashed on the screen. Promoting his campaign. Fuck, Thomas Wayne. He never cared about what his own son was doing to her for years. He only disowned David because of the gang affiliation. It put a dimmer on the families reputation, or more so Thomas'. Shaking her head clear of her own internal thoughts, Abby adjusted her gray sweater, looking up to see Penny smiling at her. Penny was more than kind about her staying with them. She could hardly believe it had been two weeks. "He'd be a great mayor, everyone thinks so." Penny insisted. Looking towards the kitchen and alcove, she could see Arthur cooking his mother's dinner. Glancing up to meet her brown eyes, he smiles. How she loved his smile, there was something about Arthur Fleck that Abby couldn't resist. Whether it was his thin, lean frame; his cynical sense of humor or his twisted view of the world, she was falling for him.

"Who do you talk to besides Abigail and I?" he questioned Penny as he rolled his eyes. He had confided in Abby more than once how he didn't think very highly of Mr. Wayne.

"Everyone on the television thinks so. Don't you agree, Abigail?" The woman insisted. The answer was no, no she did not agree, but Abby nodded to Penny as she picked up one of Arthur's cigarettes, lighting it and walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and eyes balled Arthur. Even hunching over he was only a few inches taller that her. Abby hated her pear shaped figure. She referred to herself as a broken jigsaw puzzle to which Arthur absolutely detested that thought. He leaned forward to her, his hands resting on her hips. Once more his lips inches from her own. Abby was well aware of the desires Arthur had of her, she had read them in his joke book many times. How her goddess life figure tormented his thoughts and withered soul. His green eyes passed up and down, analyzing her face.

"Thomas Wayne is shit." She said matter-of-factly to which Arthur chuckled and kissed her forehead before bringing his mother her dinner. Reluctantly, Abby follows hearing Murray Franklin's music chime up.

The stage lights are hot on his face but the warmth spreads across his skin as Arthur watches Murray Franklin from the audience. Murray makes a joke about the garbage strike and it tickles Arthur's fancy. His laughter catches the showman's attention, but instead of ridiculing Arthur, he's accepted.

"Tell me your name, son?" Murray asks, standing proud on his show. Arthur stands up, holding his head high, without fear.

"My name's Arthur Fleck and I understand how you feel, Murray. I take care of my disabled mother everyday."

"She must be very proud."

"Yes, she is. I'm a good son." The lights and stage fade, as Arthur sees Abby sitting on his bed. Giving him her full attention. She sits attentively on the edge of his bed; dark red hair pinned back with dark brown eyes looking at him. "What do you think?" he asks. Genuinely, curious of her thoughts though he had practiced this moment with her many times.

"I think you're amazing and would be an excellent guest on the show." standing, she walked up to him, wrapping her arms around him, drawing him into a warm hug. Arthur returned the hug and stood there, enjoying the moment of having her in his arms. To his surprise, she pulled away. "For what it's worth, Arthur, I'm proud of you." Her brown eyes glanced down to his lips briefly before she kissed him. Oh my God! This couldn't be happening. Abby is kissing me. I'm kissing her. Reaching up, Arthur gently laid his hands on her face. His lips pressing harder against hers. He could feel tears run down her cheek as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. "Arthur," she breathed. Does this mean that much to her or am I the reason she's crying? Pulling away, Abby looked both confused and relieved. Awkward silence filled the space between them. "I have to take a shower."

With that, she grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom. Arthur paced in his room. Great, you made her upset. He swore at himself, his laughter kicking up as he punched his pillow. Idiot! You made her cry! Time seemed to stop when he heard the sound of the water from the shower. Arthur paused, he needed to know if he messed things up with her. Knocking on the bathroom door, her soft voice pulled at his heart strings, "Come in."

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, sitting on the covered toilet seat as Abby showered behind the pink curtain. He sat with his head in his hands. He needed answers only she could provide.

"No? Why would you think that?" she answered softly. His thoughts were running rampant. He fucked up. He must have. That's why she was showering, cleansing herself of him.

"Because you cried while we kissed. Then you pulled away and left. I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you cry. I'll just-"

"Arthur, come here." He stopped and stood up to walk towards her, but was halted in his tracks by her request. "Naked." He had never been naked in front of another person before never mind a woman. Not just any woman. Abby. He covered his mouth as he began to laugh. His nervous cackle only added to his anxiety. Yet, he dropped the last of his clothing around his ankles and stepped towards the shower.

The curtain opened, and even though his eyes opened wide, his laugh only got louder. Red hair framed her porcelain face; deep brown eyes looked at him with love and seduction, her lovely neck cascaded down to her perky, small breasts. He hour glass waist that beckoned him to touch, her wide child baring hips that made his jaw hit the floor. Long legs that held up all that beauty.

Abby reached out, her hand cradled his chin, "Arthur, I cried because I love having you in my life. You have no idea how much you mean to me." There it was. His answer. His laughter was silence as their lips met again. This time with more passion as Arthur stepped into the shower with her. His body swayed with hers under the hot water; slow dancing in a burning room. His hands explored every part of her perfect body until he found himself entering her. Abby released a high pitched moan as Arthur's hard cock slid between her legs. He was floored by the sheer essence of her.

"Abby, I need you," he moaned, kissing her more. "Always," Arthur found himself grunting as he thrusted into her harder causing items to fall from their shelves. Abby moaned louder as she felt herself closer to an orgasm. Her lips found the cup of his shoulder and collarbone. An attempt to silence herself, she bit down. Arthur hissed, enjoying the pain and held her closer. His eyes remained on her as he brought her ultimate pleasure. With an exasperated grunt, Arthur pulled his cock out of Abby's soaking wet pussy and came. He leaned back against the shower wall as Abby looked at him, smiling. Oddly, awkwardly laughing.

"Mr. Fleck," was all she could say before her lips were on his again. Arthur sighed, knowing full well he would be sore in the morning. But it was a hurt that was well earned and deserved. If making love to her meant he would suffer the next day, then he prayed for an eternity of suffering.

Rain poured down the window as Abby watched Arthur leave for work. She couldn't get him off her mind. Making love to him in the shower was unplanned but well deserved. For the past two weeks she had lived with him. She was inside his broken, perfect world. She was absolutely wrapped around his finger. So the decision to move back into her old apartment was difficult. But her and Arthur thought it was best, especially now that they were intimate. Yet, Abby's feelings went deeper than that. She was falling in love with him. She wanted a relationship with him. He needed her as much as she needed him.

The apartment seemed to be left almost the same as the day she began staying with Arthur and Penny. Glass was still scattered on the floor from the fight with David. Feels like a lifetime ago. She thought to herself. Slowly, setting her bag down, she shut the door and began to pick up the place. Hours passed as Abby cleaned up the glass, changed the bed sheets, threw out everything that was David's, she even hung the Day of the Dead painting over the hole in the wall that was in the living room. The painting was acrylic, it was given to her by an old friend from her hometown. She had not seen Cate in years. Sometimes she wondered how she was doing. Sometimes, she doubted she cared.

That's when she saw it. Her fingers froze as they touched the ebony wood frame. Her hair was black then, one last final attempt to please David in their early years of dating. There was a twisted darkness in his smile. something a naïve nineteen year old would have never seen. Yet, she swore to her parents she was adult enough. The photograph was taken a year into their relationship. It was the last time she had been in her hometown of Heather. It was a quiet, small town. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone's business. Not the kind of place for multimillionaire, Thomas Wayne's son David to be. There were many nights she wished his car never broke down there, that she hadn't been at her father's garage when they towed it in. No one knew that the mechanic's daughter, Abigail Willows, would have wound up with David Wayne.

Abby barely recognized the girl in the photo. That girl was so hopeful. So foolish. So naïve. Grabbing both edged of the frame, she slammed it down on her knee as hard as she could. The echoing of her teenage wails resonated in the hollow parts of her skull. Shattering of glass only reflected the tears of rage that fell from her brown eyes. Ten years, ten years she gave that bastard of her life. Ten years he drained her, ten years he broke her. In one swift movement, Abby grabbed every photo of her and that monster, slamming the frames into her trach can. She wanted no memory, no sickening feeling of that bastard in her home. She had Arthur now. Closing her eyes, his haunting laugh echoed in her mind, drowning out any recollection of the abuse. Chuckling to herself, she opened her eyes to the pale blue ceiling. "My life should be a sitcom," she joked to herself, standing, she began to clean up the mess from earlier, "Since it's one big fucking joke."

Go fuck yourself. That's all Arthur could think as his mind replayed the events at his boss's office. Stepping off the elevator, he smiled. She sat outside her apartment door, book in hand. Has she been waiting for me all day like this? "Whatcha reading today?" he asked. She smiled at the sound of his voice as he walked over to her.

"Same as always," her voice was happier than usual, turning her head to look up at him. Arthur glanced at the cover. The Iliad. I wonder if Gotham Central Library will ever notice a copy is missing. "How was work?" She asked, blissfully flipping to the next page.

"Oh, just an absolute delight." oozing sarcasm from his voice, as she placed her marker between the pages and closed the book, standing.

"Why? More bullshit?"

Arthur pointed his index finger and thumb at her like a small gun, "Bingo! They took compensation for the sign out of my check this week."

"What? That's insane! Kenny's music is going out of business! What does he need a fucking sign for?" Abby took a deep breath, unclenching her fists. She took a step toward him. Lightly, she pressed her lips to his. "How about I come over later and I'll try to make things better?"

Make things better? Outside of Ha-Ha's being a complete shit show, Arthur wasn't sure his life could get much better. He was falling madly in love with woman of his dreams. He had already made love to her four times last night. There had been no one before her, not that he could remember. Her kiss left electricity on his lips. His hands longed to feel the fire on her skin again, to allow his member to commit ultimate sin and run through her wicked garden.

I love having you in my life. Her voice echoed in his mind as Arthur stared at the movie on the television. He sat shirtless after his shower, waiting for her to come over. For her, he left the door unlocked. The man and woman on the television were dancing. They looked so peacefully in love. Arthur watched as the man placed the woman's hand over his chest. "This beats for you." mimicking the actor, Arthur placed his hand over his bare chest. Could I ever have the courage to tell Abby something like that? How he longed to tell her that. She was his whole world.

The screen changed scenes as another man came into view, whisking the woman away against her will. Immediately, he thought of David and he wished he had protected Abby more. Glancing at the gun on the table, he picked it up. "Hey, Arthur" his body swayed as he imagined having Abby in his arms. "You're a good dancer." he imagines her saying. Gun in hand, he points it at the wall. For a moment, Arthur closes his eyes. He sees long sandy brown hair. Blue eyes. They said the Devil always had blue eyes. They were right. He sees the anger in David's eyes. He sees his mouth as an arsenal. Full of ammunition, aimed directly at her. He sees the blood staining her face, he hears her screams as she begs him to stop. He sees her frail, bruised body clinging to him as if he's the only thing keeping her alive. The only thing standing between Abby and the arsenal is Arthur's frail body and a gun. "But you know who isn't?" he narrows his sights on David. "You." his finger grips the trigger. The force of the blast causing him to jump back. "Shit!" he exclaims as he turns to see Abby in the doorway.

"What the fuck was that?" Abby whispers, shutting the door behind her. She looks at Arthur as he frantically tries to cover up the hole in the wall with a picture frame. "You said you'd be careful!"

"I didn't know it was loaded!" He silently argues back. Penny's disturbing cry, makes Abby briskly walk in the living room, turning up the volume on the tv.

"Happy? What was that gunshot?!" Immediately, Abby went to Penny's bedroom door.

"Sorry about that Penny. Arthur and I were watching an old war movie."

"Well, turn it down!" Penny barks. Then silence. Abby lets out a sigh of relief that Penny went back to bed without a fuss. Shaking her head, she walked back into the living room. Arthur was sitting on a couch, shirtless in his jeans, hair still damp from his shower. She glanced up at the wall to see the pictures neatly rearranged.

"What the hell, Arthur?" She sat down next to him, her yellow skirt catching on the edge of the table. "It was loaded?"

"I didn't know. I swear." he held her hands in his own. "I didn't know."

Running her fingers over the cold metal, Abby picks up the gun. She holds it in her hand, "I bet Randall loaded it. Hoping in some twisted way, you'd off yourself." setting the safety on, she sets the gun down. "Piece of shit." looking up, she sees Arthur start to grin. In return, Abby let's out a laughter of relief. Is he out of his mind? Am I? Through the wrinkles of her eyes, Abby can see Arthur leaning back, genuinely laughing while her left hand is still in his right. "We should, you know?"

Surprised, Arthur calms himself, slightly chuckling off the fear, "We should what?"

"Date." she says smiling. Swallowing hard, Arthur looks at her.

"You an-and I?" leaning forward, Abby kisses his lips.

"I want you, Arthur. Don't you want me?" She braced for rejection.

A wicked grin sweeps across his face as Arthur leans forward. His knee presses between her legs. The heat rising from her lap causes him to shutter. "There is no one I want more in this world." His voice oozes with a confidence Abby has only seen in passing. She grins as he presses his bare chest against her. Feverishly, his lips meet hers. What have you done? She ignited a fire so hot in him.

"Arthur," she effortlessly breathed as he slid his hand beneath her skirt. His body gracefully moved just to please her. Slow dancing in a burning room deep into the night.