Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. The Joker, Batman, and John Blake belong to DC Comics.

Chapter Thirteen


"And I thought my jokes were bad..."

Month

The aftermath of Burt was horrendous. Charlotte didn't eat or sleep. In fact, she barely breathed when other people were around. Thankfully, she hadn't been surrounded by the goons because of the Joker's order that she be put in solitary confinement. The Joker took this seriously - he brought her meals and whatever else she required personally, and on the days he was gone he let Charlie do it occasionally. Otherwise, she'd just have to wait until he returned from whatever job he was pulling. When the Joker was out for too long, Charlie took care of whatever Charlotte needed. Well, Charlie's hand did. Charlie had strict instructions to never fully go into the girl's room. If he did - it would mean his throat. That's why Charlotte only saw his freckled fingers deliver her food and goods...but never anything more.

As if personally delivering her meals and items weren't enough, the Joker had also taken to the habit of sitting in Charlotte's room to watch her her during meal times. He never ate with her. In fact, Charlotte had never seen him eat a damn thing the whole time she'd been there. While Charlotte ate, he simply stared. Of course, Charlotte found it strange...the way he stared...as if he was scared that if he blinked she'd end up dead. It had taken Charlotte a few days to adjust to the strangeness of even having the Joker in her room, but now it was simply routine.

Charlotte stared down at the Chinese takeout in front of her, her stomach too disrupted to eat. She'd taken about two bites of food before giving up. Perhaps it was the way the Joker was staring at her today. It was...different. More intense than usual, if possible. The moment she'd started to wonder why - she got the chance to find out. The Joker stood from his chair leisurely, but Charlotte still flinched at the movement. The Joker calmly removed his coat and draped it over the back of his seat. Charlotte put the carton of food down the moment he began to move towards her bed, where she sat cross-legged.

"What are you doing?" She breathed, her heart starting to thump furiously.

The look on the Joker's face was determined as he lifted one knee onto the mattress. He was already hovering over Charlotte when she feebly tried to move back. The back of her head bumped the wall - she didn't have a headboard. The Joker stayed in this position for what seemed like hours, regarding Charlotte intently. He was completely aware of the fearful look in her eyes, and the way her pretty mouth was slightly open in wonder. In anticipation. The Joker was crouched above her nearly like an animal stalking it's prey. He knew not to make any sudden movements.

Charlotte's breath quickened as he grasped her bare calf, using it to pull her closer to him. She made a startled noise, but made no point to fight back. The Joker inched himself closer to her before coming fully onto the bed and settling himself slightly between her legs. He didn't press his weight on her while she was beneath him, but he knew he would have to if she struggled. Charlotte's breaths were short and forced now, she could barely even breathe enough to register what was happening.

"You're liking this, you little slut. I know you are. What, you think you're fucking special because you're fucking the Boss?"

Burt's words rang through Charlotte's head like an alarm, forcing her to clench her eyes shut. She tried to block Burt's words out, but the harder she tried the louder her thoughts became. Charlotte could feel her mind crumbling, perhaps even her sanity. The warmth being projected onto her from the Joker's body made her reel. She almost wanted to laugh at herself. How stupid she had been to think that the monster wouldn't try to fuck her. To rape her, just like Burt tried to. Charlotte's hands gripped the bed sheets almost painfully. There wasn't a difference was there? He'd been the one to hire that awful man, it made sense that they'd be just alike. The men in this warehouse, they weren't men at all. They were demons, and this warehouse was nothing but a pit in hell. With a devil to reign it, of course. And that devil was currently between her legs.

"I thought you hated rapists?" Charlotte said, nearly choking on the large lump in her throat. She opened her eyes to see the Joker's eyes were burning into hers. A flash of fire tore through them as he registered her words.

Fuck it, he wasn't going to try to be gentle with her then.

The Joker scowled slightly, gritting his teeth together as he tilted Charlotte's chin up and to the side. She yelped as the Joker's mouth planted itself in the crevice between her jaw and neckline, sucking harshly. Charlotte stared up at the white ceiling, beginning to blind herself from the brightness of the light. She could feel the Joker's teeth scraping against her skin, and it burned like hell. Every once and a while, he'd use his tongue to lap at the spot, soothing the burn. It still felt like torture, like an intrusion. The Joker's bumpy scars rubbed against Charlotte's soft skin, causing a weird friction that made her stomach jump. At first, she'd thought of trying to push him off, quickly realizing that it would just make him more aggressive. Charlotte had to settle for clenching the bedsheets again with trembling fists. Silently, she prayed for it to be over. The faster he moved on to other parts of her body, the better.

Charlotte was in total, utter shock when the Joker removed his face from her neck...when he removed himself entirely from the bed. Wordlessly, he reached for his coat and put it on, his back to Charlotte as he did so. It was only when he reached for the doorknob that he spoke again. His voice sounded almost foreign to her...she hadn't heard him address her vocally in ages.

"Y'know..." The Joker stated lowly, "I'd want to get out of this room for a while if I. Were. You. Get some sunshine, maybe."

With that, he strode out of the room, adjusting his jacket as he went.

Except this time, he didn't shut the door behind him.

/

Everything the Joker did, he did with a purpose.

As Charlotte stared into mirror at the incredibly prominent mark on her neck, she almost felt guilty for calling him a rapist. As weird as it was...the Joker had done her a favor. Charlotte hissed in pain as she trailed her fingers lightly down the raw skin. It was beginning to bruise profusely around the edges, wonderful hues of blue and purple surrounding the redness in the center. Charlotte was pretty sure if he'd sucked any harder he would've drawn blood...which wouldn't have been a big surprise.

While she hated looking at it, the mark gave her freedom. Well, as much freedom you could get when being held prisoner by a psychopathic clown in a giant warehouse.

No matter where she went, all of the goons knew what that mark meant. That she was his. The Joker's. His...

Property.

Because of this, Charlotte could now roam the warehouse as she pleased without trailing eyes or quiet jeers. It was like they were all afraid to even breathe in her direction. The first time she'd come out of her room, Charlotte couldn't help but be embarrassed. Initially, the looks she'd received would've been enough to make a hooker blush. Most of the men didn't say anything to her of course, but the daring ones - she pretended not to hear their quiet jeers and catcalls when she turned the corner and disappeared up the stairs.

As much as the atmosphere had changed, Joker's demeanor towards Charlotte had not. He was still everlastingly brooding - grumpier than usual since that horrifying incident with Burt. Often times, Charlotte would catch him staring down that faint, blotchy red patch on the concrete floor. To the goons he looked only contemplative as usual, but something inside Char's gut knew it was deeper than that. She didn't understand it, why it bothered him so much. She would never get that the Joker hated things that left their mark - especially on him.

Month

The days rolled slowly on, Charlotte had stopped counting. What was the point, when nothing had changed? The news had completely forgotten about her when she'd tried so desperately to cling to the small hope that they'd continue the search. To Gotham City News, she was as good as dead. Certain thoughts had begun to reappear more vividly as the days passed.

'Maybe it's better this way? If they really cared, they would've found me already. I only have myself now.'

As much as she tried to block them out, these thoughts crept into the deepest, more cavernous parts of her brain and heart. They settled there, built a home there, and nested more ungodly thoughts. Charlotte no longer craved connection with society. She'd been too good at suppressing it. She missed her parents more than anything in the world, but when she thought of anyone else...all she felt was emptiness.

Perhaps, she thought, it was better this way.

Month

The second time the Joker claimed her neck, Charlotte thought she would die. He'd barged in angrily after being gone for nearly a week. That wasn't surprising, lately he'd been disappearing and returning to the warehouse in the late hours of the night. Charlotte didn't care, not really, but she assumed that meant whatever business he was conducting was going well for him.

Charlotte's hand clutched the side of her neck the moment she saw his frame against the door. Tensions were high, she could feel the anger and irritation radiating from him in waves. He looked murderous. Earlier that day, after her shower, Charlotte had noticed that her mark was nearly gone. She'd sighed in relief, she hated looking at it.

Guess she'd jinxed it.

"C'mere," The Joker growled, even though he stalked his way to her. Charlotte flinched violently as he pulled back the covers and practically pounced on her in mere seconds. Charlotte's eyes clenched closed and eventually relaxed as much as she could. The Joker's surprisingly warm lips hit Charlotte's neck, she could feel the slight pain beginning to settle - like opening an old wound. Charlotte's body felt like a log of deadwood underneath the Joker's steady one.

Month

The third time's the charm, right? Isn't that what they always say?

Charlotte sat fiddling with a loose string at the end of her comforter. Charlie - Chuckles- had just finished delivering her freshly laundered clothing and comforters, so everything was warm and soft against Charlotte's skin. It was pouring outside, and while Charlotte had no window to look out of, she relished in the way the raindrops pounded the metal ceiling of the warehouse. If Charlotte closed her eyes and focused enough, she could almost feel the raindrops pricking her skin, drenching her body. She hadn't properly felt rain in forever - and she wondered if she ever would again. Charlotte let out a soft sigh, and nearly choked sucking it back in when the Joker cleared his throat.

"Enjoying yourself, Beautiful?" The Joker mumured, leaning against the doorframe. It seemed to be his habit. Charlotte clasped at her chest with frail fingers as he stared her down. She took in his appearance, the way the black kohl around his eyes trailed down farther than usual, the way the garish red around his mouth seemed to have faded considerably. She could see the light pink of his lips peeking through. Charlotte's eyes trailed downwards instinctively, taking in the darker hue of his suit. Had he been standing out in the rain?

"Don't do that," Charlotte sighed in relief - ha, relief, she wanted to laugh- relief that it was just the Joker at her door. Just the Joker...

The Joker smirked as he moved, gliding into the room. Charlotte hated the way he moved, so sleek and perceptive. Ready to strike. "Do what, Doll?"

That name again? While things were fairly calm now, Joker's 'Doll' statement made Charlotte relive the worst memories of the warehouse. Before 'Sweetheart', 'Dollface', even 'Darling', she'd always been his 'Doll'. Perhaps, Charlotte wondered, that's what had landed her here in the first place. The Joker stepped closer, lingering at the edge of her bed. The soaked purple gloves trailed along the soft material of the comforter while the Joker stood idly still, simply staring down inquisitively at his trailing fingers, as if he didn't know where they'd land. He watched the fabric dampen in their wake.

Charlotte wished she could've said it out loud, but he was acting weird...er than usual. The silence between them swallowed the room, and as Charlotte's body registered that his soaked, leather-clad fingers were now entangled in her hair, even the persistent sound of the raindrops dimmed to a low buzz. She silently hoped that there was no blood, that it wouldn't be like the last time when she'd looked into the mirror the next morning to see her hair streaked with red. She could feel his fingertips pressing lightly against her scalp - she couldn't help it, she tensed. Was he going to snap her neck?

Charlotte's eyes stayed glued to the Joker's, blue reflecting into the weird mesh of colors that were his irises. They were almost an army green, or perhaps a light brown. The dark kohl played tricks on Charlotte, but the fact of the matter was that his eyes were strange, just like the rest of him. The Joker would never admit this to anyone - not even on his dying day- but he was really starting to like the way Charlotte looked up at him the way she was doing currently. It had only been the second time she'd done it...but still, there was something in her eyes, some sense of desperation and hopelessness mixed with sheer anticipation that made his stomach ache pleasantly.

When the Joker's fingers splayed firmly across the faded blotch on her neck, Charlotte understood. She didn't fight it - which was unusual - but instead slowly laid back until she rested against the pillow. Everything else seemed to happen in a blur, and when the Joker finally found his path to his favorite spot on Char's neck, the atmosphere closed in and suffocated the both of them. There was something different this time, maybe it was the slight stench of whiskey Charlotte could detect or the way his scars grazed her jaw, but something triggered it.

It was like a bullet shooting out of the barrel, the noise that came out of Charlotte's mouth. With dazed eyes, it took her a moment to realize this - but the Joker immediately stiffened against her body. A soft, not quite there moan had been unknowingly let out. Closer to a sigh than anything, but still...something.

The Joker's eyes dimmed against the expanse of Charlotte's neck, fairly dazed for a moment. Exiting himself from the space even further, so that there was nothing but Charlotte's hair blocking his eyesight like bright golden lights, her skin dark without the light of the dim room shining against it -

His scarred lips froze, still half open on her skin.

Had she...actually been enjoying it? If Joker was able to get a grip on the strange feeling of actual shock that was beginning to choke him, if he could explain the weird overheating buzz behind his navel, then he would be able to answer that question.

There was nothing to say, really. He could feel Charlotte's quickening breath pushing her chest against his as he let himself feel his surroundings again. He could feel his gloved fingers crushing her hipbone, bruising it wonderfully...

And for once, he had to walk away.

The Joker left as quickly as he came, the door slam reverberating as he quickly whisked himself from the situation. He'd slipped so quickly from the sheets that Charlotte could still feel his damp warmth oozing into her despicably.

Charlotte's also stared blankly, unseeing, at the pale ceiling. Unbearably mortified. The one bright light drowned her eyesight, and it burned as it always did.

She deserved it.

/

John Blake's brows creased together ceaselessly, these days.

Gotham had turned dark, both literally and metaphorically. He could see the change quickly altering the city. It always rained now, Gotham's skies permanently blotched with spoiled gray areas and an overbearing crackling that no one could ignore.

The rain kept him up at night, and he hated that. It reminded him of the old day's in the boys home, when he'd constantly have to be comforted in the dark by his bunk-mates. It'd been a childish fear of thunder then, but now, if a crack of thunder was loud enough, he'd jump just like he did then.

It also reminded him of faces he couldn't unsee, but wanted to. And when that happened, he'd stay up for hours, trying and failing to get some restless sleep. With no sleep, his worked consumed him. Files and files he'd abandoned, only focusing on one. The one he focused on was pitiful of course - the manila folder containing only up to seven papers at most.

Charlotte Marlone's and the Joker's folder - Jesus, he hated the way those words meshed together - stared up at him, mocking him. Some nights, John swore that the manila folder fed off of his exhaustion, laughing silently at his failed attempts to find that poor girl and bring her back to her parents. The folder's flaps opened and smirked a Cheshire-like grin, and it took many tries for John to convince himself that it was just the wind.

It was always just the wind.

/

The Joker hated to admit it, but he heard that damn noise everywhere now. When he was alone, Charlotte's breathy moan was a constant soundtrack in his head. When he was working, it was all the same. Even those damn stupid Goons were starting to notice that Boss was off of his rocker...more than usual. It was also exceptionally guaranteed that reliving that memory came with a heavy buzz behind his navel. The Joker hated the fact that it didn't even sting. It only ached, and things that ached were never good.

/

Charlotte's mind was on overdrive. It felt like weeks, but in reality it had only been a few days since that horrible...moaning incident.

Charlotte didn't know whether to feel ashamed or utterly mortified. Everyday the Joker ignored her, the feelings began to mesh together until she could feel nothing at all towards the series of unfortunate events. Her whole life, she reckoned, was one big unfortunate event, really. Charlotte stayed in her room. She thought things over. She thought about the way the Joker's body seemed to fit perfectly above her's like a puzzle piece. She thought about the way his hair tickled the side of her jaw.

Most of of all, she thought about whether or not she was really going crazy.

/

The sun had barely risen when the Joker's voice rang through the warehouse.

Charlotte's eyes squinted before opening completely. She'd been half-asleep, as usual, until the sound of metal clanging and rough yelling woke her up. Of course, who else would be screaming that loud when it was barely the break of dawn besides the clown faced freak of Gotham himself.

"MISS CHARLOTTE, YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED IN THE MAIN ROOM!" The Joker yelled obnoxiously, in the sing song way of his. Charlotte groaned, not only for having to get out of her admittedly warm and comfortable bed, but because it looked like she would actually have to make contact with him again.

"Someone woke up on the theatrical side today," She grumbled, fixing herself as little as she could before going out. Charlotte stared at her worn out self in the mirror, sweeping her hair so that it fell against her neck enough to cover the dark, half-done mark leftover from their last encounter.

"CHARLOTTE!" The Joker barked again, done with the games. She flinched and hurried down to meet him.

As Charlotte reached the height of the stairs, she could barely believe her eyes. The warehouse was nearly empty, save for the few ratty couches, the kitchen counter, and fridge. The cabinets were thrown open and bare. Trash littered some parts of the floor, and it the middle of it all, the Joker stood with his hands behind his back.

"Ah, took you a while. Spent some time getting ready?" The Joker smirked meanly, taking in Charlotte's haphazard appearance. She matched the place, for once.

Charlotte ignored the jab, looking him in the eyes for once. The Joker's eyes met her's steadily. There was no sense of discomfort, at least from him. Charlotte dug her hands even deeper into her sleeves before wrapping her arms around herself, feeling self conscious. "Are we...?"

"Moving? Yes. Now the faster you get outta here, the faster we can go. Now scoot," The Joker clipped, waving her away. When she didn't move from her spot on the stairs, he made his way to her, scrambling up the stairs quickly and reaching for her wrist. He didn't miss the way she flinched before starting to drag her along.

"W-Well can you at least tell me where we're going?" Charlotte stuttered, stumbling after Joker. His grip on her was tight and unforgiving. She didn't know why, but Charlotte had the strange feeling that they were starting back at square one. He was beginning to treat her like a child again. The Joker didn't answer as he half-shoved her into the backseat of a black Escalade. Charlotte nearly landed in Chuckles's lap. Without another word, the Joker slammed the door and tapped twice on the roof. The car sped off instantly.

Charlotte turned quickly in the squished car to see Joker enter the warehouse again, a blur of purple as the car gained speed. Charlotte stopped looking back, which she sort of wished she hadn't. Besides Charlie, the car was filled with Henchmen, all of them familiar and carrying weapons. Unconsciously, Charlotte scooted closer to Chuckles. Today she would call him Charlie, as he was missing his mask.

/

Charlotte was quiet for a very long time. The car ride seemed endless, and it was hard to breathe with so many people in the large car. The goons were talking quietly amongst themselves, occasionally booming with laughter if someone cracked a joke. Charlotte glanced ahead to the driver. He was emotionless, eyes steady on the road. Charlotte instead chose to look over to Charlie, who was smiling faintly at one of the goons telling a story.

"Charlie?" Charlotte murmured quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Charlie glanced down at her questioningly, smile wiped away. He palmed his face, making Charlotte glance down towards the ginger stubble that was a few days old on his jaw. Charlotte didn't understand why Charlie dealt with the Joker's messy business. He was handsome, young, and fairly kind (as far as this business was concerned). After all, he'd let her stab him with scissors without much revenge. He could've had so many opportunities to do her harm, but didn't. Charlotte had so many questions to ask him, but many of them would have to wait. The most important one was...

"Do you think you could tell me where we're going?"

"The other side of Gotham, Miss. A lass like you's never been there before."

"And how would you know that?" Charlotte asked indignantly. He simply shrugged.

Charlie smiled, straight white teeth glinting. "Ever been to the Narrows?"


Well hello there readers! I know, I know, it's been awhile. Long time no see! I can't believe my last update on this was last July. It's sort of strange to have a story on hold this long but as usual, life and school got in the way and I had to put this on the back burner. The whole point of me posting this was to show you all that I haven't given up on this story. In fact, this is one of the many chapters that I'd written ages ago and now all I had to do was edit, so I'll be updating pretty frequently as it's summer and all I have to do is upload the chapters. It'd be such a shame to just leave them on my computer because I adore this pairing and I'm so happy that you guys support it, so I want to keep sharing the story with you all! I know it's been a while, but if you are sticking to this story please leave a review so I can see who my readers are! I love talking with you guys and hearing your comments on every chapter! There's a lot of plot twists coming and more Joker POV, even from when he was a youngin' haha. See you soon! Love to all. X