(Author's Note: I'm baaaack. Sort of. See my profile for more details on that. Anyway, since the trailer for this story fell through because the talented video maker I was trying to get actually had a life. Go figure, huh? So I thought I'd open the challenge up to the fans. Rachel McAdams has been voted most like Sybil and Erin is played by a blonde Amy Adams. The music is up to you. Oh, and every challenge should have a reward. So how about you design a character for the story and I'll put him or her on in here? Sound good? I sure hope so cause that's all I've got to offer except for updates. Bon chance!)

Ruin and Rapture

When Erin was in first grade an older boy decided to make her his personal plaything. He was the son of a very rich man, born and bred to believe that he was entitled. No one contradicted him and no one stood up to him. Until he went after my sister.

He pulled her hair, pinched her arms and did his best to crush her spirit in small, demeaning ways. Erin went to me immediately and I told her that she just had to tell her teacher and everything would be fine. It wasn't. This boy brought in far too much tuition and his father was exceedingly generous. The administration would never dream of crossing him for two orphans whose uncle was merely an aspiring politician at that point. That was when I realized I couldn't depend on anyone else to do what needed to be done. I had to protect my sister.

So I pulled him aside one day and warned him that if he ever made Erin cry again, I'd punish him. He was far too arrogant to believe that the freak girl, the shadow in the library, would ever be able to punish him. To rub it in my face, he chopped off one of Erin's curls. The next day he fell down the stairs and broke his arm.

I say fell because no one was ever able to prove that I'd pushed him.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. It may take a while but I'll get you.

I wasn't entirely well back in my school days. The school shrink thought for a brief period of time that I was schizophrenic. Reclusive, eccentric and very anti-social, I realized that one day he might be right if I couldn't pull myself together. It was just so frustratingly difficult. This was because my hormones were wreaking havoc with my powers and I had no clue how to control myself. I focused all my frustrated energy on making sure Erin's life was perfect. Anyone who interfered with my goal was ruthlessly dealt with. A certain amount of control came with age and I began to realize violence wasn't the answer. At least I had until I shoved a stiletto into a man's eye because he was staring at Erin.

The problem was that when it came to my sister I had absolutely no rules. I'd never been forced to kill for her but I didn't doubt that I could. And I would, if forced, without the slightest hesitation. Up until now I was always able to ignore this part of me. I found that the best strategy since it frightened me.

The Joker wasn't afraid of it. The Joker was attracted to it, to me. If I believed in fate, I would think that I was the way I was because it made me the only woman he wanted for more than a few hours of entertainment. My gift had never been formally trained so I couldn't resist his pull. Also thanks to the frustration and pain that caused there was a very dark, lawless side to my personality that he adored. I'd read once that before we're born we choose the path we're going to take, the obstacles we deal with and even our own death. I couldn't help but think that if that was true then the woman I was before this life couldn't have done a better job of setting this up.

It also meant that I was criminally stupid in my past life. Whoopee.

I sighed and dug my fingers into my hair. Honestly, didn't I have more important things to worry about than how all this came about?

"Has he said anything yet?" I looked up to see a frazzled Gordon pop his head into the room I was currently inhabiting with half a dozen cops. Apparently someone shook their head because he abruptly turned on his heel and entered the interrogation room.

"Evening, Commissioner." I shivered. Great, they'd turned up the volume so everyone could hear perfectly in this dark little viewing room. Why was I even here? I should be running for the hills. Instead I found a chair in the corner and took a seat. It was probably well after midnight by now. My eyes felt bloodshot and if I wasn't so charged up with nervous energy I wouldn't have any trouble falling asleep. I ignored the exchange between Gordon and the Joker until I heard the sound of handcuffs being removed. Fatigue was the last thing on my mind now. Was Gordon nuts? "The good cop, bad cop routine?"

"Not exactly." The bright fluorescent lights were switched on and I winced. A loud bang followed by a groan clued me into exactly what Gordon had been planning. The dark figure of Batman was facing the Joker. He looked unreal in the glaring lights. I tried to catch Gordon's eye but he wasn't paying attention. Well, I couldn't blame him. There were more interesting things happening in the interrogation room, after all.

"Then why do you want to kill me?" The Joker's high-pitched laughter followed that question and I wished I'd been listening more closely.

"I don't want to kill you! What would I do without you?" I like this job. I like it! I considered this new angle, remembering the little things I'd heard in the Joker's head. Batman really was the Joker's polar opposite. An agent of Chaos and one of Order had been thrown into one city. Things were bound to get crazy and that thrilled the Joker. "You. Complete. Me."

"And Sybil Callaghan? What is she to you?" I jerked, eyes immediately going to the police commissioner's guiltily hunched figure. He'd told the Batman about me. But how much? He wouldn't have told him about my gift. Right?

"Oh, so you know about serious Sybil? I'm sure that thrills her right down to her toes." He glanced at the mirror and for a moment it felt like he'd seen me. Damn, that couldn't be good. Even though I was upset and disturbed, I was also a little curious. Was he going to tell the Batman about our relationship? Whatever that relationship happened to be. Was there even a word for it? "You'd like her. See, you two have something in common. To the rest of the dull, law-abiding world, you're just a couple of freaks. Like me!" I shivered, not liking the attention the cops were suddenly giving me. They probably wondered how I'd gotten lumped into the same category as the Joker and Batman. "See, their morals, their code, it's a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be."

He was right. I wasn't comfortable with thinking that and I wouldn't say it out loud. But… he was right. For God's sake, I'd had to push a kid down the stairs because no one would take disciplinary action to protect my sister. Batman had to go after criminals on his own because the system was corrupt. "See, I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve." Batman seized the Joker and pulled him up across the table. Apparently there was only so much insightfulness the masked vigilante could take from a guy who dressed up like a clown.

For Batman to get any answers out of the Joker, he probably would have to beat the crap out of him. I understood that. However, I found that I wasn't crazy about seeing the Joker slammed against walls. I had to fight the urge to go in and rescue him, even though I knew he was getting a kick out of it. Of course, when he upped the stakes by revealing that Rachel Dawes had been taken as well, Batman lost what little control he had. I didn't move when he blocked the door but Gordon did. Instead I quietly approached the window and pressed my hands against the surface of the glass. I tried to understand what I was feeling, what seemed to be eating at the insides of my heart.

Weakness. I had a weakness for the Joker building up inside me, expanding every time I saw him. This made me flinch when his head hit the window hard enough to put a crack in the glass. This mad, pathetic fondness was making me want to cradle his injured body against mine. I would never do it because I knew him better than that. Beatings were nothing to him. Too bad my stupid woman's heart didn't understand logic.

Finally it stopped. The Joker gave Batman what he wanted and the dark vigilante was out of there without a second's delay. In fact, everyone was out of there except for one man who stayed behind to keep an eye on the Joker. I hadn't gotten his name but he looked experienced. Unfortunately, there was no amount of experience that could make someone impervious to the Joker. I kept a very careful eye on the two of them, resisting the urge to delve into thoughts and just read body language instead. Almost immediately the Joker had begun to poke at his guard. I only got really worried when he started to go into detail about why he used a knife. I could see the cop stiffen, tension and rage making his eyes sharp.

"Don't," I whispered, although neither of them could hear me.

"Would you like to know which of them were cowards?"

Shit! The Joker knew exactly what buttons to push with this twenty-year cop. Insinuating that his friends who'd been killed doing their jobs were cowards… Well, he wasn't about to let that fly. I made a quick dash for the door, hoping I could stop what was going to come next.

"I know you're going to enjoy this…"

"No!" I shouted, pounding my hands against the door. If I thought for a minute that the Joker was actually weakened by his encounter with Batman then I probably wouldn't have tried to interfere with the beating he richly deserved. Probably. In any case, I was convinced that his tired act was exactly that. Just an act. This cop was stepping into a trap. "Don't! Don't let him into your head!" There was silence for a brief moment then a surprised grunt, scuffling… gurgling? I pressed my ear against the door, trying to figure out what was going on. Abruptly the door opened and I fell forward. An arm came around my waist to pull me out of the interrogation room but not before I got a good look at the policeman collapsed on the floor, blood pouring from the gash in his throat. "Oh, God," I whimpered, spinning around to press my face against the nearest warm body. Unfortunately the nearest warm body happened to be the Joker, although he was all too happy to have me clinging to him.

I felt nauseous, stomach still turning from the grizzly sight, so I wasn't immediately aware of the wandering hands that had crept under my coat and begun to feel their way around my waist until they found the edge of my shirt. At the feel of his hands against my skin, I forgot all about the dead body in the next room. I didn't care that one of those delectable hands held a shard of glass that was probably still dripping blood. In fact, the glass was useful. He could cut away my clothes with it and touch the rest of me. I was close enough to hear his thoughts and I knew the same idea had occurred to him.

"I'm glad you stuck around," he whispered into my ear.

"I'm not," I muttered, only partially lying.

"Spoilsport," he complained. The Joker turned me around in his arms then pressed the glass against my throat. "Now, can you be a good girl and act like a convincing hostage?"

"I know you won't kill me," I pointed out, surprisingly calm for a girl with a sharp object pressed against her throat. "I won't pretend otherwise to help you escape." His reluctance to kill me didn't have anything to do with love or affection. Like the Batman, I rubbed society the wrong way. And there were far too few people of that ilk in the world, or so he believed.

"Hm, disappointing answer. Still, more than one way to skin a cat." I can't explain what he did next. I wasn't an expert on the human body. All I know is that one minute he'd wrapped his arms around my neck and the next minute I was unconscious.

I woke to the sensation of someone nuzzling against my hair. I blinked. What had just happened? Where was I? Even more importantly, where had my clothes gone? I'd realized someone had stripped me down to my underwear shortly after regaining consciousness. I was colder than I should have been, which led me to look down at my body. Of course today was one of the unlucky days where my bra and panties didn't match. The bra was boring and flesh-toned while the panties were black. Definitely not the purple the Joker had been hoping for…

"Oh, my God!" Everything clicked into place and I jerked forward, away from the man I knew was stroking my hair. I remembered the interrogation, the blood, the glass, all of it. The Joker's hands caught me by the shoulders and pulled me back against his chest.

"Calm down, sleeping beauty," he cooed into my ear. I couldn't make out our surroundings since there wasn't a single flickering of light anywhere but I could feel the mattress under me. And I could tell that the Joker had gotten ride of a few layers by the way he felt pressed against my back. I won't lie. I felt panicked.

"Sleeping beauty was a princess," I mumbled, realizing that while I was panicked I also felt a disturbing urge to curl around his body. "I thought I was supposed to be the dragon in the fairy tale metaphors." His naked hands skimmed down my arms and along the sides of my breasts.

"Frightened?" he whispered into my hair. "You must be. The valiant fire-breathing Sybie, away from her princess, from her entire life's meaning." The Joker's fingertips danced across my stomach. His thoughts began to flow more clearly through my head. I saw his memories of undressing me, the lists of things he could have done with my body while I was dead to the world. But no, he wanted me awake.

And I was frightened. I was alone with the Joker but that wasn't the frightening part. I was alone with myself. He'd tear down the barriers I kept around certain parts of my personality and make me stare at them until I could never ignore their existence again. He'd twist me and bend me until I wouldn't even recognize my face the next time I looked in a mirror. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for to take the protective dragon and make her into the psychotic soul mate of his dreams. I closed my eyes. There was no surviving this unscarred, literally and figuratively.

"Let go." I didn't believe for a moment that he would but it was worth a try. His response was a giggle. "Please."

"Are you going to beg, my girl?" he asked, pressing his mouth against my neck and nipping at the skin with his teeth. He wasn't gentle about it, either.

"Probably," I admitted. The more he touched me, the more I could hear him inside my head. If the two of us had sex, there would be no way for me to block him out to even the slightest degree. I so did not want to know every thought in the Joker's head. That was not a place I could come out of sane.

"Probably," he repeated, amusement thick in his voice. Amusement and something darker. "But what, Sybil my girl, will you be begging for?" His hand slipped below the waistband of my underwear and I lost myself.

I'd like to think the reason I got so caught up in his touches was because I'd never had anyone do things like that to me before that. I was a virgin. The Joker delighted in this knowledge. The fact that I hadn't been taken before meant he could make everything hurt so much more. And it did. For every moment of pleasure there was pain. He gripped me hard enough to bruise and drew blood with his nails. He tore at my mouth until I was bleeding there as well. Then he turned gentle, kissing me sweetly. I could taste blood and sweat and him.

"Please." The word was so soft and tiny that I doubted whether he'd be able to hear it. He lifted his head, looking me in the eye.

"Please what, Sybil?"

"Please…" I hated this. I wanted to go home, curl up in a corner and cry. I hated his thoughts rolling through my head, his needs making a home in my body. "Please, more." The scars on his face stretched up as he smiled his delight at me.

I hated it but I loved him. I couldn't do anything but love him, was forced into it by our connection and the needs of a past life. And I had to have more.

"That's my girl."

My last coherent thought for a while was a plea for help. I couldn't save myself.

For once, someone was going to have to rescue me.