A/N: Wow, you are all honestly the best – your reviews make me happier than anything! Thank you to my anonymous reviewers: Censes, Jenn, Miss Semantics, Tasha, and Nara! I've never gotten more than a hundred reviews before for any story, so this is amazing! Brownie points to you all!
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman.
Enjoy!
Through the wood of the closet door, she heard him click the light on.
Still humming, he crossed the room to her convenient holding cell, she could only pray with the intent to release her. He seemed to pause just outside the closet, the shadows of his shoes visible through the tiny gap left between wood and floor. Gaze fixed upon those patches of gloom, Anna struggled to calm her pounding heart.
Without warning, he threw open the door, sending a tremor rocketing through her body.
So much for lowering her pulse.
She expected him to begin speaking immediately, yet he didn't, the slow and almost pensive sloshing as he sucked on the inside of his cheeks the only sound to meet her ears. Resolutely keeping her eyes to the wall, she ignored his probing stare, feeling his gaze slip over the contours of her body. She couldn't help but think that he was gaining some twisted sort of satisfaction from seeing her strung up like a broken marionette, her cords tangled and pulling oddly on her form.
He was the puppeteer, of course, deftly controlling her strings.
Reaching for the hand bound behind her, he neglected to even call for his thugs, having little to fear from her exhausted limbs. Gloves still firmly in place, he lightly ran his fingertips over the reddened digits, savoring the bruised skin of her wrist, dappled with burning welts from the ropes. She could barely feel his touch through her numbness, but preferred it nonetheless, since it beat him cruelly twisting her wrist to see how far it would go.
A knife, flicked suddenly to his other hand, crept beneath the ropes and tore through them savagely. He caught her hand before it could fall limply to her side, his touch more forceful.
"Now, now, just look what you've gone and done to your hand." She couldn't see his face from her position, but she could feel the edge of the blade resting against her pulse. "Just think… what a few quick lit-tle cuts could do here…"
She swallowed heavily; no, she definitely did not want to think about that.
He seemed to hear her thoughts, dropping her hand in disgust and turning to her other. "You're no fun at all. Try to ah, live a little, will ya?"
The blade repeated its work, biting into her flesh slightly as he slipped it beneath the bonds. Her first thought was to flee, yet with nothing to hold her up, she collapsed into him, limbs almost useless as they tried to right herself.
Without thinking, he caught her reflexively and stiffened, a flash of annoyance crossing his features – whether at her weakness or his reaction, she couldn't tell. In truth, she was trying to get away, but when one's legs and arms are completely numb, it is almost impossible to brush past another person. It was as if time blurred and they were right back to where they started, her hazily collapsing into his arms, leaving him to drag her wearily to the bed. A corner of her mind wondered if they would have their usual argument too.
Yet when he started to move, they didn't go for the bed.
He pulled her roughly towards a folding chair, throwing her carelessly onto it and smiling as she winced in pain. She couldn't remember hearing anyone enter the room, but for all she knew, he had placed it there himself. Rubbing her arms brusquely to restore feeling, Anna waited for him to bind her once more.
Instead, he merely grinned, showcasing the scars he had so diligently created.
"No need to worry, darling, about that…"
The dull thud of footsteps in the hall entered her clouded mind, foretelling the two men who entered the bedroom not a moment later. Bags of all sizes hung from their arms, each as nondescript as the last. Her stomach rumbling as they dropped their cargo at his feet, she could only implore whoever was listening that they contained something edible.
He paid no mind to the thugs' exit, rifling quickly through the bags in search of one in particular. Eyes widening in delight, he transferred to the dresser, the clinking and ringing of metal audible as it hit the surface. Immediately he set to work, turning his back to her and pulling his new 'toys' from the carrier.
Skewers filed to razor-sharp points, fish hooks as long as her fingers, the sort of heavy iron spikes used to anchor tents, hot wax, industrial strength acid, yet more knives, razors, and God knew what else; a menagerie of pain that she didn't want anywhere near her body. She knew it was foolish but couldn't help but ask, watching as he unloaded and liking each new toy less than the last.
"What are you… planning to do?"
He cackled at her question, chuckling in fits and bursts as he transferred a handful of nails and a hammer to the dresser. His tongue slipped out to caress his lips, the sound almost familiar now. "Plans… that's a good one. I'm just going to hmm, play a bit. Ex-peri-ment. You know what they ah, say, darling…. Work hard, play hard." His voice was light, as if it were some innocent game and not his need to make her hurt as he did. "And I've been working hard lately. Chaos is a stern taskmistress."
His nimble fingers pulled what looked like a key detonator from the bag, and she noted in alarm that it was wired for operation. The brightly colored wires stuck out at odd angles, looping back into the device that could bring down a building, for all she knew. Straightening in the chair, she tried to stop the room from spinning, fear slithering into her brain.
"That's not necessary, Jack, I'm –"
And suddenly the room was spinning, and the bed rose up to meet her.
She hadn't even seen him whirl around, seizing her by the collar of her shirt and throwing her to the bed. A gasp tore from her throat as she fell on her back, having just enough time to see him reach for the detonator and a skewer before he advanced. In a flash he was on her, incalculable rage etched into every line of his face, crimson-streaked teeth bared in a snarl. He was solid, always had been, and his weight pressed uncomfortably into her hips from his position of power across her.
The name had slipped out, but for the life of her she hadn't expected this.
His dark eyes glowing dangerously, he bent closer to her, skewer pointed towards her jugular. Growling, he let it push slightly into her neck. "You are never… to say that name. Do you understand me?"
She nodded, relieved when the pressure of the skewer subsided at least a bit. Gazing at the fury held within his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if her using his name returned him at least in part to the past, a place where she had held most of the control. It made him remember her as a wife, as a person, not merely as the victim.
And he couldn't stand that.
Jack couldn't stand that.
And so it was the Joker who straddled her now, the twisted creation of an already twisted mind. But she had glimpsed a flash of her husband, even if it was in anger. At least, she reflected while the detonator danced before her eyes, he was still there in some way.
Snapping back to reality, she barely bothered to struggle, jellied arms pinioned to her sides by his knees. "As it is, we can either play…" He unpinned one of her arms, lifting it straight above her and shoving the detonator into her palm. "…. Or you can start the fireworks."
The hellish mixture of metal and plastic was warm to her touch, red light blazing dully. She had absolutely no idea where it was connected, and he didn't move to supply the information, merely scrutinizing her features. It wasn't a choice at all, really – the odds of it being a hospital or train station were too great.
Resignedly placing the contraption back within his hand, Anna expelled a breath heavily, watching as he placed the detonator beside her.
"That's right, darling, you made the right choice." Carelessly removing his jacket, it fluttered to the floor, lying like some crumpled individual in the dust. His kohl-blackened eyes never left hers. "You see, I want this… willingly… from you." His eyelids fluttered slightly, the skewer tracing a path down her neck and over her shirt. "I want to make you beg, for it. Like I had to."
He pushed up the cotton of her shirt, drawing the skewer over her stomach, as if searching for the ideal place to plunge. Her muscles tightened reflexively, the sharp point of the spike leaving gouges in her skin with the increasing pressure. The grin twisting his lips filled the whole of her vision, and she endeavored to calm the harsh rasp of her breathing. He was already enjoying it; adding to it wouldn't help.
The tip bit into the flesh of her side, teasing, blood welling to the surface as he slowly drew the piece of skewer in and out. Pain lanced through her and she moved to grasp his gloved hand, yet his clipped command stilled her motion.
"Touch me, and I turn the key for you."
Her hand retracted to her side.
Eyes squeezing shut, Anna could block out the sight of him, but she couldn't ignore his voice. It was almost conversational, hilarity seeping into the undertones, the corner of his tongue darting out to quickly glide along his scars.
"I'm not going to touch your ah… your face, darling. It already looks like something Picasso would have been proud of. And I like Picasso." The skewer danced slowly to the front of her, edging higher up her torso. "The rest of your body could use a bit of work, though."
She could feel the blood seeping through her shirt.
Her abdomen was scored with gashes and perfectly round holes, not too deep but burning fiercely all the same. With a swipe of the sharp tip, he put the finishing touch on his masterpiece for now, eyes almost closed and a peculiar hum radiating from his throat.
Anna could feel him against her thigh, smoldering through the fabric of her jeans, but was far from any state to take advantage of the fact. She hadn't begged as he had wished, keeping her mouth determinedly closed and swallowing her own screams for what seemed like ages. This wasn't her thing, and she was almost surprised it was his.
Surprise melded with the agony as he edged off of her, the loss of heat hitting her senses before anything else. He hadn't taken it further, instead swinging his legs off the bed and making for one of the bags. His walk was a tad awkward but he didn't seem to notice, an odd sort of laughter emitting quietly from his lips as he searched through one in particular, the sloshing noise reaching her ears once more.
Pulling a stained and wrinkled blanket from its interior, he tossed it on the floor, turning to face her with a grin. She kept her eyes glued to his face, not wanting to play his little game, fighting off the exhaustion darkening the rims of her vision.
His thumb jerked in the direction of the blanket. "That, my darling, is your bed. Or don't you re-mem-ber?" Roughly taking hold of her shoulders, he pulled her upwards, his mouth by her ear. "'Go find your own bed, 'cause you ain't sleeping in mine.'"
A push, and the floor was beneath her knees, arms barely catching her from slamming it. She had almost deserved that, she figured, her own voice echoing those same words from long ago. The blanket beneath her fingertips reeked of something horrible, but she couldn't deny the urge to collapse from exhaustion then and there. Convinced he wasn't about to kick her, she laid down, her eyes following him as he went to switch off the light.
"In a few hours, you're going to have a… job to do. You're going to help me tonight." He grins in her direction, and she can't believe that he's on his feet, that he likes the pain. "So ah, rest up, darling."
The light clicked off, the gloom rushing in to take its place.
Anna could hear him settle on the bed, hear the mattress creak in all the familiar places beneath him, his breathing slowing with every minute. Time seems to blur, except she's not hearing that sound at her ear, and blood is the only thing to cover her.
Unable to think any longer, she lay on her back and closed her eyes.
A/N: Well, that was fun... next chapter, you'll see what sort of job (hint: it includes "fireworks!") he plans to take her on.
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