Disclaimer: I do not own Gotham

Author's note: Yeah…season two has already started and I'm still pissed that the Ogre died *rolls eyes at self*

2

Two—second time's a fiasco

No more sleeping pills turned out to be a more severe punishment than Barbara'd thought.

She was fatigued; she was irritable; her headache was killing her but she still had to smile like a pretty doll, be in his good graces.

Ironically, it was when Jason curled up in bed with her that she was able to get small amount of sleep. Even so, with the constant waking during the night, even that little sleep seemed more exhausting than restorative.

Still, she played her part and acted as the perfect girlfriend. She took care of the apartment when Jason was gone, made sure that everything was speckless and tidy when he returned; she cooked his favourite food; she smiled and be sexy for him.

Submission might be a weakness, but it could also be a strategy.

.
.

Barbara whimpered in pain when Jason took her hand in his.

Jason looked down at her hand and frowned. "What happened to your hand?"

The area between her hand and wrist was red and swollen. The skin was flaky and a blister has formed. "It's nothing," she assured, "just burned myself in the kitchen today."

Jason left the couch and walked into the kitchen. Barbara heard the opening and closing of the cabinet, and a small smirk appeared on her lips. She hid her smile as soon as Jason came back with the first aid kit.

"It's really not a big deal…"

"You could get an infection if you don't treat it," Jason said with disapproval. He held his hand out and Barbara obediently placed her hand in his. He tried to push her shackle away from the area and she hissed.

Jason looked up at Barbara, her face furrowed with pain. He paused for a moment and Barbara could see him debating.

Then he pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackles.

Yes!

Barbara strained to keep her breaths even and her face neutral, not betraying any excitement, though she could feel elation coursing through her veins. Some minor burn, she'd pressed her hand to the cooking pot and it was well worth the effort.

Her attention was drawn back when she felt a cool sensation on her hand. Jason was applying some kind of ointment on her burn with a Q-tip. His hand that was holding her arm was warm, his motions were gentle and his expression was serious.

Faint amusement curved her lips. He really did have a soft spot for her, didn't he? People said psychopaths had no emotions, but from what she saw, Jason had too many, and he turned from one extreme to another with such ease. It was baffling.

Jason finally covered her burn with a gauze and secured it with tape. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Thank you for taking care of the place, of me," he murmured, his eyes affectionate, and suddenly Barbara felt a twinge of undesirable fuzziness rolling from her core to her very fingertips.

She cleared her throat slightly. "My pleasure."

"I'm going to an opening event for a wine club tomorrow night. You don't have to cook dinner, take some rest," Jason said.

"Wine club?" Barbara feigned interest. "Can I come with you?"

Jason looked indecisive for a moment, surprised that she'd asked. Granted, now that he thought about it, the other women never really had a long enough coherent conversation with him. "No, not this time. Maybe next time."

It was too soon. He needed a little more time…for her to prove that she deserved his trust.

"Don't wait up, I want you to try to get some sleep," Jason said. His tone was soft, but Barbara could hear the authoritative note in it.

"Okay," she crawled onto his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

The image of a perfect, submissive girlfriend.

The moment Jason left the apartment, Barbara took action.

She took the crowbar from Jason's kill room and brought it to the front door. She then stuck it between the door and the door frame and started prying. It was harder than she'd thought it'd be. She pushed the crowbar away from herself and it slid out of place, scratching the door loudly.

Barbara panted, her heart thumping erratically and her temperature rising. She wedged the crowbar into the gap and tried again, pushing as hard as she could. If she couldn't get the door open after all, Jason would kill her once he returned and saw the scratch marks and dents on the door.

And. She. Refused. To. Die. Here.

She clenched her teeth and forced the crowbar down, the metal hurting her palm. After several attempts the door finally popped open.

Barbara panted heavily and watched the open door with awe. Exhilaration filled her once she registered that it was really happening. She was free.

So she grabbed her purse and ran.

.
.

There was no place for her in Gotham.

A major serial killer of Gotham was after her, and she could not turn to the police, for she had murdered as well.

The first thing she did once she left Jason's apartment was call a cab and head straight home. She needed money and her IDs, then she'd head to the airport and take the next available flight. To anywhere away from the Ogre's reach.

Adrenaline rushed through her body as she barged into her own apartment. She hurried into her bedroom and searched through the drawers. "Damn it," she muttered, "where did I put it?"

"What're you looking for?"

It was a male voice. The voice was deep and smooth, quite pleasing to the ears, but Barbara gasped and froze in place at once, her heart pumping blood furiously in her state of panic.

She drew in several short breaths and turned around, and Jason leaning against the wall came into her sight.

He was wearing the same outfit that he wore to the wine club opening event. How'd he known that she'd escaped?

Jason saw the question in her eyes and held up his phone. "Alarm. The alarm is triggered when someone breaks in the apartment, or, in your case, when someone breaks out of the apartment."

His eyes were dark and unfathomable. "So, tell me what you're searching for." He put down his phone and held up a bunch of cards, and Barbara felt a paralyzing chill spread through her veins. Jason tossed each item onto the floor one by one. "Passport, driver's license, social security card…you looking for these?"

Barbara thought she'd faint. So fast, so easy, her escape plan had come to an end. How foolish of her to think that she could escape so simply. Letting her roam around the apartment freely, shackles off. He probably had cameras in the apartment too.

Jason slowly advanced on her, predatory. "I'm very disappointed in you, Barbara. I thought I could trust you. One simple test, and you failed it." His voice was deep and intense, cutting through her like a knife.

Barbara backed away from him like a frightened rabbit. Her back hit the cupboard and she grabbed the vase on top by instinct.

In an instant Jason rushed upon her. He held her wrist on the shelf in an iron grip, his eyes narrowed in anger. "You never learn, do you? All I ask is your obedience and you choose the hard way every time."

Before she could say anything he gave her wrist a hard twist, bending her arm behind her back, Barbara cried out in pain as the vase hit the floor with a loud crash.

Both of them gave the shattered vase a reflexive glance, and uncertainty appeared on Jason's face at what he saw.

Barbara grabbed the chance as fast as she could.

"I'm sorry, Jason, but I really needed it...I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat..." She clutched her painful shoulder, where her arm was still being held down against her back by Jason.

"I guess I was just too afraid to tell you because I didn't want you to see what I truly am, a junkie," she said with shame on her face.

Jason regarded her dubiously, then he kicked the broken pieces of the vase aside, revealing a small bag of marijuana joints.

"I told you once you saw the real me, you'd run the other way screaming. Go ahead, you wouldn't be the first one," Barbara whispered with the same resentment that Jason had seen in her before.

He gave her a long, searching gaze then let go of her and picked up the drugs. Then he pulled out a joint and placed it between his lips, and proceeded to light it up with a lighter as he sat down on the sofa.

He dragged in a deep intake of smoke. "And I told you you didn't need to hide yourself from me. I'm not James Gordon." He tossed the weed and the lighter to Barbara, and beckoned her to sit beside him.

Barbara walked towards him, her legs weak and wobbly. She couldn't believe she actually pulled that off. She suppressed a hysterical laugh as she too, placed a joint in her mouth.

Her hands shook as she sat down and lighted it up with the lighter. She hadn't had one in quite a while, and it only took a few puffs before she felt the familiar buzzing in her head.

Getting intoxicated and helpless beside the Ogre seemed like a bad idea at first, but immediately Barbara dismissed the pointless worry. She'd always been at his mercy, she doubted this was any different.

They silently smoked their joints.

The marijuana had been merely a convenient excuse that presented itself, but it turned out she had needed it. The drug took effect fast enough, and she relaxed, body and soul. Like a strained rubber band that finally went loose. She lay her head back against the couch and took out another joint.

Jason arched an eyebrow at her. He finished his own but didn't take another one.

"There was a time when I was angry too, just like you," he said.

Barbara turned her head to look at him, her vision of him seemed so close, yet so far, like she was dreaming. "Why?"

"I was angry at my mother, who left me as soon as she gave birth to me," Jason said, affected by the drug as well and letting down his own walls. "Then I was angry at another woman…she led me on, making me believe that she was my mother. It was all just a game to her. She told me no one would ever love me."

A small frown appeared on Barbara's face, maybe it was just her head feeling fuzzy, but it sounded like there was a missing piece to the puzzle. "Why did she say that?"

Jason gazed at Barbara, his eyes slightly unfocused. When he spoke there was an edge to his voice. "Because no one could love such an ugly being."

Barbara blinked several times, her brain felt like pudding. She stared at Jason's handsome face, and a fit of giggles escaped her. "Did…did you just say ugly?"

Jason gave her a tight smile. "I didn't use to look like this."

Barbara stopped laughing and frowned. She leaned close to Jason and reached out a hand to touch him. She stroked his forehead, his straight nose, his strong jaw and sexy lips. Baffled, she repeated, "You didn't use to look like this."

"No," he answered quietly.

She burst out a fit of uncontrollable laughter again as understanding dawned on her. Not her fault, the pot was making everything so damned funny. "Will you…will you refer me to your surgeon? I've always wanted bigger boobs…" She took Jason's hand to cup her breast, "My…my mother said I was flat as a board." Another fit of giggles.

Jason gave her breast a gentle squeeze. "Your breasts are fine, I like them."

The way he said it, so genuine, almost asexual, made Barbara a little shy. She cleared her throat. "What happened after that?"

"The woman who I thought was my mother…" his lips curled into a smirk at the memory, "I stabbed her to death and left her body in her house to rot. It was the first time I felt…satisfied."

Just like the way she killed her parents. "I wish I could see that," Barbara whispered lowly and gave him a feral smile, "and your birth mother?"

"I was never able to find her. Whether she's dead or alive, in or out of the city, kidnapped by aliens, I'll never know," Jason said impassively.

Barbara exhaled heavily and took a deep drag of pot. "That's not exactly satisfying."

She moved to take another joint but Jason caught her hand to stop her. "Sometimes we don't always get the closure we want. You killed your parents for what they did to you, but it wasn't enough, was it? You wish you could hear them admit what they did, acknowledge how much pain they'd caused you, you wanted them to say that they're sorry."

Barbara felt herself choke up and pulled her hand back from him as if burned. For a moment she could not speak. He knew.

"But no, they probably died thinking you were simply crazy. They died thinking they did nothing wrong. That's why you're angry."

"And you're not angry?" Barbara retorted, her tears rolling down her cheeks, "You aren't angry that your mother never loved you, and you can't even ask her why?!"

"I know why," he snapped, losing his composure as Barbara had hit a nerve, "but that doesn't matter. I'm not going to spend my life losing sleep, smoking pot," —he shoved the bag of marijuana off of the table savagely—"pining for her. If she can't love me, then I'll find someone who can."

He sprang up from his spot and pushed Barbara down on the sofa. She gasped, surprised by his sudden actions. He trapped her hands above her head and claimed her lips hungrily. His kiss was demanding, aggressive and Barbara couldn't help but return it, the aftereffects of the drug amplifying every sensation. He stripped her out of her dress and she moaned his name loudly, welcoming his invasion.

And the words kept ringing in her head.

If they couldn't love her, then she'll find someone who can.

Author's note: Any feedback is much appreciated!