AN: I'm back. College is stressful work keeps me busy, but boyfriends are great. Life is getting into some kind of routine. I checked my email and saw a few reviews and messages and decided I needed to post. Please enjoy.

A firm grip steadies me and I breath a sigh of relief, only for it to whoosh out suddenly when I'm jerked backwards by my upper arm. I feel a hot leather grip and the warmth of a body against my back. Buttons push into my skin. I don't need to look to know who's snatched me.

"Well, well, well," the Joker smiles in my ear with warm breath giving me goosebumps as the last of the crowd vanishes to safety.

With nothing but a deep breath I thrust myself forward. I break free for a glorious three seconds before an unyielding grip clotheslines me by the wrist. I yank my arm sore, my heels providing no traction.

"Let go..!" I grunt and jerk my arm with all my weight, but all I do is lose my balance. A humor filled "tsk" meets my ears.

"Not so fast, there, sunshine," the Joker says, pulling me to my feet.

My breaths come out in huffs and I can feel how frightened I look. The Joker's face smiles as if minorly impressed.

"I haven't ever seen that look on you before," he observes before switching to a regular smile, "It suits you, like that dress; it really makes you stand out in a crowd."

I frown and start pulling away again, my arm throbbing in protest.

"C'mon, now. We can't waste time like this-"

And we're off. I run without thinking, one hand clutching my skirt. I don't observe my surroundings, too focused on not tripping in my shoes. The rooms and halls are dark, so I have little idea where we are. I hear my shoes' muffled pattering as we descend a set of carpeted stairs into a massive room. I look up and see statues and paintings whizzing by my vision. He has a museum in his house? I think in disbelief; now he's just showing off. The Joker rushes us into the room and flings us too the floor behind a rather large pedestal of a marble sculpted couple in each other's arms. In the same motion, a hand his smacked over my mouth.

I look to the Joker, one of his hands clasped over my mouth and the other not wavering its iron grip on my wrist. I pant lightly through my nose; he does the same through his painted lips. The smell of warm leather snakes up my nostrils. I can feel each of his fingers pressing against my lips. Hurried footsteps and echoing voices meet our ears as we sit quietly and perfectly still. I turn toward the noise, waiting for police to appear around the corner. I can feel the Joker's eyes bury into me, but I keep my face turned away. I don't know what to do with a gaze that strong.

The noises around us begin to fade and I feel sweat forming on my upper lip under his glove. With rash decision making and a movement as quick as I can make it, I jerk all my weight away from him. My body moves smoothly, only to be snagged by the grip on my wrist. The Joker moves to regain his hold on me, but, desperate for a break from his big hand on my face, I frantically shush him by aggressively tapping my index finger against my lips.

He halts his advance with a quirked eyebrow and a toothy smirk. I relax when I feel like he won't make another grab. I lean my back against the statue's sturdy base and calmly consider what we might look like to an outsider. A man and woman, sitting hand in hand, one in a purple suit, the other in a yellow dress. My eyes widen; I blink quickly and lick my lips casually to pretend I didn't just crack a smile. I just realized that we are wearing complimentary colors-even my shoes match his outfit. I chock it up to a weird coincidence, but I'm afraid it's really because the Joker has made it deeper into my mind than I am aware of.

I let my eyes trace over the other art pieces around us as we wait, but I can't shake the burrowing feeling of that man's eyes on me. I turn to him abruptly and feel his hand tighten on my wrist. My face is tense with crankiness, tightening my brows and pursing my lips.

"It's rude to stare." I tell him in a nearly inaudible whisper like a mother scolding her child in public. His reaction only makes my frown deepen. He beams brightly, never moving his eyes and feeling his scars with his tongue. I stare him down, hoping it might make him look away. I see red paint smudge. Doesn't that taste stuff taste bad? I wonder. I can hardly stand lipstick.

"Want to find out?" he answers in a hushed voice. For a moment I foolishly think that he read my thoughts, but I must've spoke aloud. I blush, feeling silly. Before I can respond, I'm ungracefully yanked to my feet and dragged forward. I guess we're done waiting. We retrace our steps back to the party hall, now empty, save for abandoned beverages, finger foods, and shattered glass. I'm flung into the elevator, the Joker close behind.

I watch the doors calmly close as the ground floor button is pressed. I suddenly untense and relax, my body realizing that my wrist has been dropped before my brain. My jaw falls a bit slack when I realize he's let me go. When I look to him, I see why.

The Joker unpockets a blade. For a moment I'm sure that he's finally gonna use it on me, but instead he pries loose the elevator control panel. Sparks leap forward and I squeak in surprise, and again as the lights shut off, leaving the two of us in pitch darkness.

"Calm down, mousey." the Joker mutters to my embarrassment. I feel almost certain he spoke with a smile. The darkness remains only for a moment, but for some reason it feels so much longer. I keep my breathing shallow as I wait for… I don't know. I swallow a lump in my throat as memories rise from the repressed depths of my mind. God please no.

Lights suddenly reilluminate in an odd, redish tint; these must be the backups. I'm startled to find the Joker standing directly in front of me. I step back quickly, my heels breaking the silence with two hard clacks. He doesn't seem to notice. I find my heart beating fast in my chest; not racing, or anything, but definitely fast. Or maybe not. I shrug it off. The dark always makes me uneasy.

I watch the Joker stow his knife and straightened his coat.

"Hey, sunbeam, need a boost?" he offers. What's with these nicknames? I figure he's referencing my dress, but I suddenly don't care when he crouches down and wraps his arms around my knees. I gasp as I'm lifted swiftly. I grow rigid and clutch his shoulders to keep from falling forward and over his shoulder.

"Open 'er up." he tells me slightly strained and without explanation. I figure the sooner I do what he says, the sooner he'll put me down. I glance around and quickly find the discreetly labeled hatch on the ceiling: EMERGENCY EXIT. I slide back the panel door and feel my weight lowered briefly before being dropped. I stumble, but keep my footing. I look down to pat the wrinkles from my skirt, just for a second to give my face the chance to cool. No one's lifted me up in years. I turn my head up just in time to see the Joker legs disappear into the opened hatch.

I stare dumbly at the black square in the ceiling. I shouldn't be surprised, but for some reason I expected him to take me with him on his escape. He got what he needed from me, so I'd only slow him down at this point. I move my eyes around the empty elevator. The control panel still sparks and I vaguely wonder if I'll die in here. The thought of finding myself in the place I'll die has lost it's shock value. I guess I'm going out with a bang. To anyone else, I'm just another casualty in the Joker's crimes, but to me, I've had the most thrilling night of my life. If this elevator's cords suddenly snap and I fall to my death, that'd be okay. I can't ask for anything more than dying happy and satisfied from an exhilarating night out.

My thoughts go quiet for a few seconds. I'm at a total loss of what to do now. I guess just wait. Another few seconds pass and I'm already antsy for something to do. I look up through the hatch. A white face appears and the darkness. I only stare.

"What are you waiting for?" the face asks.

"I can't reach." I answer dumbly, as I see that even my heels can't help me get through the emergency exit. The Joker rolls his eyes and extends an arm. Removed from myself, I take it and we work together to hoist my weight. What's happening? A ladder runs up the concrete wall of the dim, cool elevator shaft.

"Ladies first," he gestures, and I take the cold metal bars in my hands. I begin descending like it's the most natural thing in the world. I'm confused, but I don't stop. My legs and arms grow tired by the time we reach the bottom. We emerge in the chilly night through a strange back entrance. The Joker retakes my wrist and we start running through the back alleys of Gotham.

I should stop; I should get away. I really shouldn't be following him. It'd be easy, I think. He wouldn't be able to chase me. All of this makes sense, but for some reason I don't want to leave his side. That can't be right- my thoughts are cut short when the Joker abruptly stops, causing me to lightly collide with his back. We're at the entrance to some building. Before I can figure out where we are, he kicks the door in with one swift movement and we're moving again.

And we're not.

He's still got a clutch on my wrist as he considers a hat display in front of us. Looking around in the dim, moonlit room, this place looks like the cheaper, male equivalent of Fancy Lady. The Joker fits a porkpie hat to his skull, but quickly discards it with a nearly silent noise of disapproval. He rifles through a few more before settling on a fedora. He releases my hand and fingers the brim. A giggle escapes my lips, causing him to turn sharply to face me.

"What?" he asks, confused but not offended.

"Oh, nothing nothing…" I say, poorly hiding my grin, "it's just that hat makes you look like a tool, that's all." I shrug.

He looks slightly taken aback, but smiles hesitantly, throwing that hat over his shoulder and grabbing the next one. He drops a bowling hat on his head and spreads his arms to display his new image.

"Better?" he asks sarcastically and rhetorically while shrugging out of his purple blazer, "Hold this," he commands without explanation, thrusting the coat into my hands. I take it without thinking and watch as he jerks coat hangers holding trench coats from their rack and slinging them to the floor. After discarding half the rack, he chooses a coat without any obvious reasoning. He quickly thrusts his arms through it and retakes his grasp on me, rushing back outside.

My scrambled thoughts finally begin putting themselves back together. Everything's gone by so fast it hardly seems real. We now walk along the sidewalk, along the length of a massive brick building. We're frighteningly alone.

We speed down a sidewalk for less than a block before a siren splits the night air. The Joker picks up the pace for a few seconds while the sirens near. Then, he suddenly flings me into the building we walk along. My breath is nearly knocked out of me as my back collides with the cold brick. I silently take the pain, clenching his coat to my chest, bracing myself.

This is it; he's finally going to kill me. I'm surprised I made it this far. I can't say these last few hours have been a waste. It's been fun and interesting and thrilling. I had fun, but for some reason, I'm terrified. I want to smile, but I can't. I look up into the last face I'll ever see.

I meet his eyes just before his mouth meets mine and his arms bring me into him. He firmly holds the small of my back with one arm, the other cradling my head. I'm frozen for a second before my heart starts twisting and whipping around in my chest. I pull back gently, without full force, but the Joker remains unyielding. I should try again, but I really can't make myself. I'm not sure if it's just the pure lust mixed with fear, or if I've suddenly imagined that there's a handsome man under all that make up, but I don't necessarily hate what's happening. I'm almost into it. The closeness, the warmth, the pressure of his body against mine, and the sirens whizzing by somehow flow into the moment.

And suddenly he pulls away. Our lips separate and I start breathing fresh, cool, air. I swallow and let my heart grow steady as goosebumps begin rising on my skin. The Joker flashes yellow teeth and doesn't move away.

"How'd it taste?" he smirks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. I scrunch my face briefly when I identify the taste in my mouth; the paint is bitter and lingering, but perhaps not entirely awful. The man releases me and removes his hat. I'm hit with chills without his warmth. He presses the stolen hat to my head; the brim falls over my eyes. As I raise to my eyebrows and see him strip the stolen coat.

"Trade ya." he says, blinding me with the trench coat and snatching the purple one from my hands. I huff and throw the coat back as a reaction, still frazzled from the passionate kiss. I mean, it makes sense. The cops wouldn't bother a couple smooching sweetly in the night. I don't know if I feel embarrassed for being used, or because my mind forgot for a second who's lips were pressed to mine. He catches his coat without blinking, then takes my wrist, once again, and begins dragging me to- who knows?

"No, wait-" I say, stopping and attempting to take my arm back. The Joker stops but doesn't release me.

"What?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"I can't go with you, I have to go home."

He screws his face up as if he just heard the stupidest thing in his entire life.

"Why?" he asks as if the answer wasn't obvious.

"Well…" I pause. Is he serious? "Well, I'm cold and these shoes hurt and I'm tired and-"

"You complain a lot." he tells me, rolling his eyes and throwing the trenchcoat back to me.

I huff irritably.

"Now you're not cold, and-" he slides the oversized jacket over my shoulders and, from there, he smoothly scoops me into his arms. "And now, you don't need your shoes." he laughs, throwing his head back, and begins walking. I hook an arm around his neck, extremely tense, not super comfortable with being carried.

"C'mon, relax." he says jokily, bouncing me slightly to readjust his grip. I tense even more and shiver. Feeling it, he laughs again. "Take a nap, even. Fix your tired problem." he says. Something about his voice seems to have changed, like I can hear the excitement is over by his tone. Now I chuckle softly.

"Yeah, fall asleep in the arms of a killer. Sounds like a good idea." I sigh; I am really tired. The adrenalin finally draining from my system, taking all my energy with it.

"Most people call me an insane killer." he tells me calmly. His voice is… soothing. No, that can't be right.

"Eh, I wouldn't say insane… maybe something else. I don't know, I'm probably drunk." I yawn, but I'm staying awake. "Or, are you insane?" I wonder aloud.

"I'm not." he answers immediately. "I'm just a man, like any other."

"Most men don't wear makeup." I mumble. I'm answered with a breathy chuckle.

Thanks all for reading, please let me know if you find any glaring typos that pull you out of the story. Hopefully I have some old fans returning from before my super long break. And hopefully I have some new fans, too. Anyways, I'll see you guys next chapter. Hope you enjoyed the story!