A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are all my heroes! Thank you to my anonymous reviewers: xxJokersgirlxx and Jenn!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Enjoy!

Her eyes narrowing, she relieved the barrel's pressure against his head.

The police. She couldn't help the hope flooding like wine through her veins, yet refused to allow it to make her careless.

Anna had no doubt they wanted to leave, being caught with the Joker was a done deal as far as County was concerned. And, from what Gordon had revealed, her husband had made quite a few silent enemies in the dark recesses of that prison, dangerous individuals content to take out their revenge on a cohort rather than the seemingly unbeatable man himself. No, they wouldn't survive long in County, especially not a young thing like this one.

Pulling the gun from his temple, she gestured towards the door with the muzzle, the relief in his eyes not escaping her. "Take your friends and get out of here. Anyone left in that room after two minutes gets a bullet in the brain." She couldn't afford one of them thinking it through and deciding that as a witness, she should be silenced.

Whispering a hurried thank you, the thug practically dashed from the room, leaving his gun in her care. Some part of her urged that she should pick him off, quickly and silently, as he retreated, that she would be doing the city a favor. He was more than likely scum off Gotham's streets, probably about to celebrate his good fortune with a rape or mugging after fleeing the apartment complex, but she didn't know that for sure.

It wasn't in her nature to play God.

Pressing a hand to her head, she tried to stifle the beginnings of a migraine, her heart pounding in her sensitive ears. Three or so days without a drink, and her body was beginning to protest even as the craving simmered within her chest. If she dared to hope, she might be safe with a beer in her hands in a few hours.

Might be.

The rasp of the rope as it rubbed futilely against the wood shook her back to life, observing with detached amusement as he struggled harshly to free himself. The ropes wouldn't give, but the headboard might, a silent cross of her fingers the only protection she could give it. His legs thrashed wildly, shoulders rolling in ways she hadn't thought possible, a snarl on his jagged lips.

"You should'a just…" Grunting, he pulled on the headboard, the mattress hitting it with a thud, "killed the bastard. He would of done the same thing to you, if given a –" A curse flew from his lips as he pinned one of his wrists between the wall and wood, frantically rocking to use the sharp wooden corner as a sort of saw. "A chance, darling."

Gaze flickering between the open door and her husband, she tightened her grip on the thug's weapon. She removed the safety hammer with a click, unsure if she would be able to shoot the hulking thing. "Right now, I don't really care, Jack, as long as they get the hell out. They have a minute – you have a minute – and then I'm leaving."

A howl of rage tore from his mouth and she flinched at the sound.

His eyes snapping to hers with lightning intensity, the murky brown depths proved hard and mercurial. Nearly trapped by the fury held there, she saw through the mask to the disappointment beneath, a crushing feeling that seemed to rip the breath from his chest in harsh gasps.

A small part of her broke, even as she tried to sweep the pieces out of sight. She was leaving, again, even if he had held her against her will. For a man like Jack, betrayal was betrayal no matter what name was used to cloak it.

Thin trickle of blood trailing down his forearm, he didn't seem to notice as he thrashed with renewed vigor. "You're. Leaving. Me?"

"Yeah." Anna swallowed thickly, taking a few steps towards the door. "But if you're lucky, I guess, you'll be found by the Batman."

He wheezed in what was supposed to be laughter, she figured, but it came out as something between a choked sob and a chuckle. Her free with a gun was permissible as long as the men in the hallway would complete their task, thereby chaining her to his bedside in fear and self-preservation. Remove the men and add the police, however… apparently things weren't going according to plan.

Or maybe they were, and he was playing with her. The odds were high that he would escape yet again, whether before or after the police arrived, it honestly didn't seem to matter.

With any luck, they would be able to hold him this time.

He had fallen into a bizarre sort of rhythm as he pulled against the wooden baluster of the headboard, entire body rocking and shaking to rip through the rope, strand by strand. The surreal, animalistic ferocity driving his body captured her gaze, and Anna tilted her head in bemusement. Each word kept time with his thrashing, a grin splitting his scarred lips. "Even with those men gone, you know what's gonna happen if you leave, right? I told you before, but… you don't seem to understan-d. Go run, go hi-de, Anna, go do whatever, it is, that makes you feel safe, because it ain't going to last. I'm better than that, and so are you. You will be worth it, and some day, you will see why I am too."

Shaking her head, she jerked free of his mental hold, her feet taking her carefully the rest of the way to the door. His eyes bored into hers, like they had the last time she had ever seen him in their old lives.

"You understand now, Anna? Do you finally understand?"

Her back to the corridor, she stood silently in the doorway, shoes precariously spanning the threshold. Tucking the folded switchblade into her pocket, she allowed him to see the action, her features unreadable as she realized she didn't even know which one of them was the blade's true owner. It truly didn't matter at this point, with one foot in the hallway, the other still planted firmly on the brink.

Appraising him calmly, she perceived the greenish curls, the yellowed and jagged smile, taut muscles, brown eyes so full of power and sorrow, lines of blood streaking his torso and stomach. The image was allowed to burn itself into her memory, filed away with the others in a place she could never seem to ignore. He was lying on their bed, the bed upon which she and Jack had talked, made love, argued, laughed, lived.

Breathing heavily, she clumsily reached for the doorknob and stepped into the hallway.

Unable to break his stare, the creaking of the door was in her ears even as Jack was in her mind, pulling on the strings which ran between and sending agony through them both. A part of her wanted to lay a kiss on his brow; another would rather send a bullet and save the trip. Yet another wanted both, but she refrained from all three.

She had loved him at one point; she supposed part of her still did. In love with the memories of her husband, seemingly left at his side behind the closing door.

A last glimmer of his smile, and it clicked shut.

I'm a woman of my word.

The wind had picked up from across the harbor.

Leaving the Batpod in an alleyway between two of the abandoned buildings, Bruce darted through the shadows, thankful that the armor shielded his skin from the bite of the wind. Gravel crunching under his feet, the smaller complex, 611 Samson Street, loomed before him, its own height eclipsed many times over by its grim neighbors. Twelve floors of cracked windows and moldering cement, a former refuge for Gotham's poor or unconnected, reeking like the rest of the Narrows.

An unusual place for the Joker to set up operations, to say the least.

He had been forced to utilize a land assault upon discovering that the roof had no building access, a hallmark of a hurried and sub-par contractor pocketing a bit of extra funds. With no idea what floor the Joker and his captive were stationed, Bruce couldn't afford to enter by window, choosing instead to enter the old-fashioned and decidedly unpredictable way.

The front door.

Reaching for a handle, he attempted to peer through the shadow lying like mist inside, slipping into the antechamber with barely a sound. The next set of doors opened as readily, whatever alarm or lock system traditionally in place apparently having been turned off.

Avoiding the dim city-light seeping through grimy door panes, he kept to the shadows at the edge of the lobby, his eyes quickly becoming used to the dark. A rustle from the other end of the room and his attention leapt to its source, drawing closer to the elevators as he endeavored to keep his step as light as possible on the plaster-strewn floor. There was a figure there, crouching in shadow against the far wall in view of the doors, something held within their hands.

Raising his fist to release a batarang, a strip of plaster cracked beneath his boot.

A face snapped upwards, pale features just visible in the diffuse light, eyes wide and reflecting. Bruce heard the telltale click of a weapon before its barrel was pointed in his direction, a soft cough as someone squinted into the darkness.

"Move and I shoot. Who are you?"

Startled by the feminine tones, he lowered his arm, barely even allowing himself to believe this was the one he sought. On the slim chance it was Anna, why was she curled down here and cradling a gun, where was the Joker?

His voice was a mere rasp. "Batman."

"Batman?" The figure cocked its head and the weapon returned to her side, used as support in attempting to stand. Wobbling on unsure legs, Bruce watched as she clung to a ledge before raising a hand in greeting. "Well in that case… it's Anna. I thought you were one of them."

"One of who?"

"One of the goons from upstairs, I told 'em to scram but was afraid they'd come back just in case." Holding a hand to her head, she swayed unsteadily, though her voice remained strong.

Drawing closer, he recognized the shadowed features, lined with strain and exhaustion. To be honest, she looked worse than when he had glimpsed her upon the rooftop, the thought sending a pang of regret through his heart. There was no telling what the madman had done to her in the meantime, though given the bloodstains and deep circles beneath her eyes, it couldn't have been good. At least she was alive, if only that.

"How long have you been down here?"

Glancing around at the ruined foyer, he couldn't help the note of perplexity in his tone. The situation didn't exactly suggest a trap, but it was beyond odd for more than one reason. There was no way in hell, he knew, that the Joker would just let her go, nor was there any chance she would have overpowered him.

Anna shrugged, a dark overcoat swathing her shoulders; no wonder he had not been able to see her earlier. "Five minutes, I guess, I really don't know. Not long. I'm just waiting for Gordon to arrive, and it's warmer in here –" She gestured around the lobby, "than it is out there."

"You know Gordon is coming?"

"Yeah, one of the thugs barged in and said so. He got a phone call, don't know from whom."

Gaze sweeping across the room once more, it fell upon the elevator, chrome doors pressed ominously together. At any moment he expected the doors to part and reveal a grinning nightmare, greasepaint reflecting eerily in the dim light, a Glock held firmly in hand. "And the Joker simply let you go. Where is he?"

Chuckling hollowly, she glanced at the elevator before returning her weary eyes to his own. "Jack? He's a bit uh, tied up at the moment. And, not exactly, though I wish it was that simple." Bruce wasn't certain what was so funny, but he didn't have to wait long for the ghost-like grin to fade from her lips, a wan grimace sprouting like asphodel in its place. "Tenth floor, Room 1008. I can't promise he's still there, he's adamant to remain free and was working through the ropes even while I was in the room."

Sensing his shock, she jerked her head in direction of the elevator, her stare trailing his form as he followed her advice. "I don't think he has, but if he's managed to free himself, he's armed. So keep your eyes open, it's not well-lit upstairs."

Bruce nodded as he entered the tiny box, muscles humming in anticipation of a fight. Selecting the proper floor, he leveled his gaze as the doors began to close, commanding her to do what she should have minutes ago. "Go wait outside for Gordon – I don't want you in here if anything happens."

If he escapes, Bruce whispered silently. And knowing the Joker, he will come straight for you.

She couldn't say what had compelled her to stay inside.

It was freezing on the street, she told herself, and to be truthful the wind cut through her jacket to chill the flesh beneath as if it hadn't existed at all. The Batman obviously didn't understand this fact, clothed in armor and elastic fiber as he was, and so couldn't foresee the consequences of his order. Pulling the dark fabric tighter around her form, she stifled a shiver and stared upwards, unable to view her flat from this angle yet wondering what was happening nonetheless. No one had been tossed from a window, so that had to be a good sign.

The guns at her feet, Anna could barely think for the icy tendrils slipping into both skin and mind. She couldn't erase her last glimpse of Jack, his blazing eyes the sole source of warmth to be found in the shadowed, cold world of the Narrows. He was seemingly etched into the back of her eyelids, his laughter slicing through the migraine to echo inside her head.

A laughter which, after some seconds, melded with the distant shriek of police sirens.

Pursing her lips, she gauged them to be a good six blocks away, practically able to tick off each fewer block on her fingers as they neared. By the way the cacophony seemed to emit from every direction, it was clear they intended to establish a perimeter, though she honestly hoped it would not prove necessary. The one thing she wanted – well, one of the things she wanted – was for Jack to be locked safely away in a padded room, treated by professionals and rendered incapable of harm.

Years ago, the thought of his confinement would have probably horrified her.

The first few rays of headlights appeared on the top of Samson, vehicles speeding like giant insects across the gravel and cracked pavement. Wincing as the sheer number of sirens proven deafening, she averted her eyes from the blinding, flashing lights, both relief and dread flooding her veins. Brakes screeched as the patrollers halted at the curb, men in uniform spilling from their drab interiors.

Alarmed to find several pistols at first trained on her, she welcomed the sudden appearance of Gordon from one of the squad cars, fiercely giving orders to advance. Swaying as twenty or so officers rushed past her towards the door, she grinned weakly at his approach, eagerly taking the blanket he offered.

"Thanks, commissioner. I know you're probably… shocked, at my being out here."

To say he was stunned was an understatement, of course, the man looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. He kept smoothing back his hair, dividing his attention between the former hostage and his men now entering the lobby.

"It's not exactly what I was expecting, I'll admit, but I'm not complaining. I want the full story back at the MCU, but for now, where's the Joker?"

Pointing towards her floor, she raised her voice above the sirens and officers' commands. "Tenth floor, Room 1008. Your friend –" She paused as he relayed the information into his radio, no doubt directing the first wave of police to secure the building. "Your friend's already in there, and with any luck has him."

Although she had no idea why, Anna simply couldn't reveal how she had left him, not to the commissioner of police. She owed nothing to the Joker, but it seemed wrong, unfair somehow, for her to betray Jack in such a petty manner. It would be enough that they captured him, the entire police force didn't need to know about their games as well.

He must have seen a flash of melancholy cross her face, because he fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

Shouting another order into the radio, Gordon sighed and beckoned for her to follow him, leading her to the car he had leapt out of earlier. With a worried smile he opened the passenger door for her, his quiet voice almost lost in the din surrounding them. "We'll get you back to the MCU soon, and put you up in a hotel for the night. Just try to hold on a bit longer Anna, you look exhausted."

So do you, Commissioner, she wanted to say, but swallowed the words before they could leave her lips. Instead she merely thanked him, tugging the blanket around her shoulders as she nestled into the worn leather of the patroller, the door closing with a dull thud beside her. She watched through the windshield as he returned to his post nearer the door, waving his arm to direct the numerous men under his administration. Being the commissioner and chasing such a high-profile target, he had to take care of business first; questions could come later.

Empty.

Anna felt empty.

Detachedly she observed as six or so snipers took up places lining the front walk, others climbing onto the tops of the police vehicles and training their weapons towards the door. They were preparing for something at Gordon's command, something large by the looks of it – either they had caught her husband, or they had caught the Batman. Knuckles ashen from where they gripped the blanket, she could only pray it was the former.

Leaning forward, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, eyes widening as a throng of policemen moved through the dilapidated lobby. They were restraining someone by the looks of it, each man with a limb and more with pistols targeting the figure in their midst. She couldn't quite see who it was, couldn't quite make it out, now if that one woman would only shift ever so slightly right –

A flash of green-blond hair.

She expelled the breath she didn't know she was holding, gaze locking onto what she knew was her husband. Arms tied behind him, she figured that was the Batman's doing, since no policeman could have re-tied him once letting the mad dog off his leash. Moments later, the woman leading stepped completely aside, revealing Jack, strong and bleached in the yellow light of the cruisers, every inch of skin bared to see. Except he wasn't quiet or ashamed like any normal individual, he was cackling, thrashing just to thrash against his captors and yelling something at Gordon, standing frozen meters away.

His tongue darted greedily over his lips, chin up and smiling grandly, loving the attention. He was high off the rush that came with their shock, their disgust, Anna figured, fueling his own mirth as they led him toward the patroller two cars in front of her own. Mouth opening, she slunk lower in the seat, her eyes peering over the dashboard to observe his violent struggling, more to amuse himself than to actually escape.

Head turning just so, he accidentally caught sight of her.

Something sparking in his gaze, he launched in her direction, the power coiled in his body nearly pulling five others along with him. A grin upon his lips, he bellowed in her direction but the words were lost on the wind, limbs straining to pull free of their captors and join her. Jerking his head towards the building, he continued to yell, never taking his eyes off her even he was thrown into the back of the patroller.

Gordon himself slammed the door, a shaky smile in place.

Like most things in Gotham, it wouldn't last long.

The sound rocking the car with its energy, the windows of the tenth story exploded outwards.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that! I figured there is no way the Joker would want anything in that apartment discovered, and is essentially destroying that phase of their life. Without her, it means nothing to him. Yes, I can tell you, there were people up on the tenth floor at the time, which the Joker was counting on.

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