And then Jerome showed up at three in the morning with choked bruises around his throat, a gun in his hand, and severe burns around his mouth.

And he smiled.

"Hey, sweetheart, lend me a hand?"

And of course, Y/N let him in. She was always so obedient that way, he thought.

He made himself at home. In fact, he knew just where to go to throw up whatever repulsive concoction his uncle had made to scald him with. He'd been having a cheap and stupid crony outside of Arkham spy on Y/N's home for him, take pictures, and follow her. He had her pictures glued to his cell walls in Arkham. A special paste of blood, crud, and spit made sure work of the hangings.

Y/N trailed him into the bathroom and waited patiently in the doorway until he'd coughed his stomach into her toilet. She gave him space. Distance. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and chuckled at her.

"Sickness shouldn't bother a nurse," he informed her, his voice all dry and burnt. He let his gaze turn dark. "What's the matter, doll? Afraid of the monster come to haunt you."

"Haunt implies you could frighten me," Y/N replied coolly, approaching him and pulling him up. "Sit and talk, Jerome. I'm too tired for empty threats."

Jerome jumped onto the bathroom counter and smiled sweetly in an instant. "You know, my threats won't always be empty, not even for you."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She stooped between his legs to dig around in the cabinets below. "When you find a replacement who won't faint at the sight of you, much less your desires, I'll think about worrying. Until then-"

Y/N stood and studied his lips and chin, and then the bruises on his neck. "Talk, fool. I know you love to do it. Normally, you won't shut up."

Jerome laughed. The venom, the snap. He wrapped his legs around her and forced her closer to him. "Maybe, baby, I want to do something other than talk."

Y/N squeaked in indignant surprise as he took hold of her, then she glared at me. "I can make these burns stop hurting, or I can get my lemon juice and squeeze."

Jerome huffed in mock disappointment. He was on a schedule, after all. He still had another stop to make before he could go visit his friend…

He released the agitated woman between his legs. "Took a little family vacation," he told her. She had some kind of blue gel on her fingertips and she approached his face to gently smooth it into his skin. "Ah, family reunions. Really bring back lovely old memories."

Jerome said it with a jovial tone. He smiled. Y/N stopped and met his eyes, her fingertips on his lips. Therapists at the Asylum would console him, and ensure him that not all people were like his family. That there was a different way to live.

Y/N kissed him. Long, deep, and hard until neither could breathe. And then she continued to apply the gel to his slowly soothing skin. "The world has been stacked against you, Jerome Valeska," she muttered. "No wonder you're such a fucking bastard."

Unexpected. That was his doll.

He snickered and it was short. "Such language from the saint," he said. His scratchy and sore voice was low and gravelly. "Oh, doll, you know how I love to hear you talk like that."

"I know," Y/N sighed. "Tough. I'm tired. Will you be staying the night?"

Jerome leaned back against the wall as she put away her bottle of miracle juice. His lips and chin were blessedly cold and chilly now. "You wish you were so lucky," he smiled childishly. "But people to see, and places to be, sweets."

"Good," said Y/N. "You're rude enough at the Asylum, can't imagine how you'd be here." She straightened from closing the cabinet. "I have all my dad's old clothes in a box in my room. Go dig around and make yourself presentable. You smell disgusting."

His laughter followed her out of the bathroom.

When he had showered and dressed in one of Mr. Y/L/N's suits - a little tight, but he could not deny the man his good taste, though Jerome would likely have to raid some shops later - he found Y/N in the tiny kitchen dishing out ice cream. She was turned away from him and he could not resist grabbing her roughly from behind.

Y/N yelped and struggled momentarily in his arms before stopping. "Damnit, Jerome," she hissed, all riled up. "Arms off."

Jerome conceded with a giggle and she turned to him, her face red. "Not what you said the last time I-"

"Shut it, ginger," Y/N growled. She grabbed a glass of water from the sink and a handful of pills and held them out for him. "Take these and eat your ice cream."

Jerome smiled at her innocently. "Anything for you, doll. Maybe there's something else you want me to eat while I'm here?"

Y/N's glare could kill lesser men. How Jerome loved it. "Pills. Ice cream," she said with such ferocity, she'd have had Jim Gordon himself obeying her.

With a gleeful chuckle, Jerome tipped back the pills and picked up a bowl of ice cream. "Scientific," he commented around a spoonful of chocolate. "However do you do it, doll?"

Y/N did not please him with an answer and instead began to eat her own frozen treat. It was quiet for a while. Y/N stared at the lousy apartment while Jerome simply stared at her. Such beauty. Such fire. Such innocence he had taken from her. Oh, how he wanted to break her entirely.

"I would tell you not to talk very much for the next day or two, but you don't listen to me," Y/N said finally. "I gave you painkillers, and you can rob those anywhere. Ice the neck. Aloe vera for the burns." She looked at him. She looked at him tiredly.

Unacceptable to Jerome while he was in her presence.

He swiped her bowl from her hands and chucked both in the sink. Then he threw his arms around her and kissed her. He made sure she could not escape, though she tried, at first. He bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and the whimper that escaped her careful control allowed him access to her mouth. Securing her arms with one of his own, he let his other hand glide down to her bottom. He began to knead and abuse it, shoving the woman against the cabinets.

Jerome made sure that Y/N was a mess by the time he moved down to her throat. He had made sure to learn all the right buttons to press. And then he let go of her and was pleased by the way she automatically followed his escape from her personal space, lips bloody and parted and eyes dark.

"Tired, she says," he scolded her and turned away, walking for the door. Y/N recovered herself and scowled at his back. Jerome glanced at her as he opened her door. "Leave the window unlocked, doll. I always finish what I start."

Daggers were his reply and his laugh was her goodbye as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N was not in his plans, and he did not include her in them.

He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to break her. Make her his and only his and never for anyone else. Make her forget her rules and cages and inhibitions which kept her from him permanently. Firmly. Surely. Completely with him. Only him forever.

He would invade his thoughts while he killed, with blood on him, he would think of her sinfully in his arms. He saw her in his most delectable nightmares. He thought about carving her up while she laughed and urged him on.

He would have her.

In the months to come, they met many times. Mostly in Y/N's bedroom. Sometimes in a closet.

Again and again and again.

Y/N knew what she was doing.

But it was exciting. A game. A thrill. A risk.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, but so…

Intoxicating.

Addicting and maddening and so very delicious. A darkness she could not indulge in, but which she could watch and touch and tease. She kept to her work at Arkham. Her schooling still did not fail. She did not bother with her father much anymore. He was dying. In a coma. Couldn't hear her anyway.

Jerome could. He could hear her. He could see her. He could hold her and touch her and ravish her and…

Somewhere, in the back of her head, Y/N knew that this was all getting too far. One day, she would cross the line and there would be no returning to the stability of morals that she held dear. One day, it would be too much.

The rest of Y/N did not care.

"I have a present for you," he had told her. "A gift. But you have to be my good little doll to get it. "

"I'm not yours," she had replied with a snarl.

He had laughed viciously.

"Don't go to that concert tomorrow, doll. I have a surprise for you, and that would ruin it."

She had said some other harsh and vulgar thing and he had taken her. But she did not go to the concert the next day.

But she did watch the news.

She watched as he took the crowd captive. As he displayed his hostages and made his demands. She wasn't really hearing the words. She was only watching him. Captivated, enthralled, obsessed, and intoxicated.

She didn't really listen as his twin appeared on the screen.

He has a brother. The thought did not phase her. She was waiting for his next move.

Did not flinch when he was shot and the footage cut off as the square erupted into chaos.

Reports were coming in left and right, but she was only looking for him, listening for him, and hoping for him.

It was almost an hour before she had her news.

The sight of him covered in his own blood and broken on the roof of a car.

Dead.

She wishes she would have been listening.

The package arrives the next morning.

Y/N was crying and sobbing.

Whatever magnet had been dragging her heart had left her alone in darkness. He was gone. A murderer was gone. No more of his madness.

The package arrives and she finds it at the door. Beige and orange and neatly wrapped. A note is tied to the bow. It says,

"For Doll,

Come be immortal with me.

Jerome "Fuking Bastard" Valeska"

The paper does not come away fast enough. The box hits the floor too slow.

Y/N pulls the Jack-in-the-box from its container. She's glaring as she turns the lever. She's gasping as the clown ejects.

She's laughing when she hears his voice.