Hey! So I know it took a while and I apologize. But on a list of things I should be doing right now, posting this is not there. I SHOULD be sleeping because I have school tomorrow. But I'm being a GOOD author! :D
So... Listen to:
Sharpest Lives- My Chemical Romance
City of Delusion- Muse
Both perfect for Lucky Twenty/ Joker crime sprees.
Umm... This has more drug use. Consider this chapter rated M.
So much thanks to soaringphoenix86! Your suggestion was seriously A LOT of help! I think you'll find this a little familiar… :)
Thank you for the reviews! I love them!
"What're you thinking over there?"
"Huh?"
Jess blinked and looked up suddenly, the gentle voice jarring her from her far away thoughts, to where Billy and Laurence were leaning against the counter in the rec room, each with a bowl of cereal. It was relatively early in the morning but Jess had been unable to sleep—and for good reason—so she had come in here to watch TV and read to put her busy and conflicted mind to rest. She'd ended up sitting silently on the couch, staring blankly into nothing, and thinking.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," Billy said, the light hearted smile on his face fading as he realized this was true and started to worry that something was wrong with her.
Jess smiled reassuringly at him, trying to hide all the conflict she felt inside after last night…
After the Joker's visit…
Oh but thinking about it now wouldn't help anything!
"I'm fine," she said firmly, as much to herself as to Billy.
She stood up and crossed to them and Billy tossed her and orange from the bowl on the counter, a subtle reminder to eat something. He was always looking out for her.
As she peeled the fruit, Jess couldn't help but allow her mind to wander back to last night, to remember the Joker's hands on her, warm and possessive, and his perfect mouth working down her jaw line.
"… saw him so restless, you know? I mean, Keith's kind of the calm one."
Jess started, almost dropping the orange. It hadn't been until Laurence had finished his statement that she was even aware he was talking. She snapped out of her thoughts to find orange juice dripping over her hands and Laurence and Billy looking at her, concerned.
"Wait, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and wiping her hands on her jeans. She put the orange on the counter, not very hungry anymore.
"What's the matter, Jess?" Billy asked, leaning forward. "What's on your mind?"
Jess blushed immediately and looked away.
"Nothing," she said, too quickly.
Both men simply stared at her.
"No, I just had a long night. Bad dreams." She turned away from their questioning gazes and leaned, trying to be casual, against the counter.
Billy kept regarding her suspiciously.
"Don't look at me like that!" Jess exclaimed. "I'm fine, I swear. Just tired!"
Billy cocked a skeptical eyebrow.
"You sure?"
"Yes! Jesus, Billy, what are you? My father?"
"Whoa!" Billy raised his hands in surrender and Jess slumped. "Hey, kiddo, chill it, huh?" he said, smiling at her defensiveness. There was still a look of curiosity in his eyes.
Jess put a hand to her forehead, telling herself sternly to calm down.
If she acted weird and jumpy or spacey, people might find out. And that…
Oh Jesus. She could not let that happen. It wasn't only that he was the Joker and everyone would flip out if they knew what she'd been doing with him (Had she really been doing those things anyway? How could it be possible that he'd want to kiss her?). On top of that, Jess was significantly less than positive that he wanted anyone knowing. Was she supposed to keep it a secret?
She wished she could just talk with the Joker plainly about this—ask him what he meant by kissing her like he did last night and if they were, like, official or something. She wished she didn't have to play his stupid, malicious, complicated games.
But there was no way to reach him otherwise.
"I'm sorry," she said again to Billy.
"It's okay," he replied.
He was worried. Jess could see it. He knew something was up but he was too… what? Afraid? Hesitant?... to ask.
And that was sort of okay right now.
Jess gave him a smile, or an attempt at a smile, one which she had hoped would look natural but she was relatively sure came out looking strained.
She sighed, dropped the grin and reached for a slice of her orange.
"So," she said, slowly chewing the juicy fruit, "what are we doing today?"
Laurence leaned forward, his glittering smile set off by eyes shining with anticipation.
"Boss mentioned something about practice. For the funeral." He chuckled. "We get new guns."
"What funeral?" Jess asked.
"You don't remember?" Billy asked.
Jess frowned and shook her head, wondering what he meant. Laurence laughed.
"She was pretty wasted that night, Laur," Billy told him. He turned to Jess. "A few nights ago, when you went to that apartment with the boss… and those two guys…"
Jess nodded, remembering.
Well, not really remembering, but knowing which night he meant.
"The blurry night," she said with a giggle, referencing the white pill and its effects. "What about it?"
"Check it out," Laurence said, grinning and tossing a rolled up newspaper at her, a few days old.
She caught it and looked at it. Gotham Times. Nothing special.
"Obituaries," Billy offered.
Jess shuffled the newspaper and turned to the page of recent deaths.
It wasn't hard to figure out what she was supposed to see.
A huge picture of Gotham's mayor took up nearly a quarter of the page, along with a caption reading, "Anthony Garcia, the beloved mayor of our city, dies today at 38."
Underneath that, tomorrow's date.
Jess gasped.
"He's going to kill the mayor?" she asked incredulously, stealing another glance at the page. "Tomorrow?!"
She was almost impressed by the Joker's creativity. It was a rather in depth obituary of a man who, as of that moment, was alive and well. A threat. A warning.
To warn the city of a murder attempt before actually attempting it took serious guts.
"He's going to assassinate the mayor," Billy amended, as though that made it any better than murder.
"Tomorrow is the funeral of Commissioner Loeb," Laurence said. "The mayor's making a speech. And we…" He smiled. "We're gonna be part of the parade."
"Hold on," Jess said, furrowing her eyebrows as she hopped up to sit on the ledge of counter space. "When did Commissioner Loeb die?!"
Billy snorted with laughter and Laurence rolled his eyes good humouredly.
Jess soon found out what Laurence had meant by "practice."
Around noon, twelve men—including White and Schiff—piled into a van.
Jess tagged along for fear of the boredom she knew would strike if she sat in the theater for the rest of the day. She was able to keep out of sight of the Joker for most of the time. He looked busy, preoccupied, and Jess had watched from a safe distance while he had helped the men load a large crate and three dummies into the vehicle.
It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him—indeed, she would have loved to have a little chat, maybe answer a few questions—but she didn't know how he'd react to her after last night and she didn't want anyone to know of their secret. So, she avoided any contact with the boss and jumped into the back of the van while the Joker went up to the cab.
She sat on the soft stomach of a dummy for the thirty minute drive.
Jess, as well as the rest of the Lucky Twenty, no longer found any qualms about driving around in the dark interior of the van's storage compartment. A few of them still looked a little queasy after a particularly rough ride, but otherwise everyone had come to accept it. Jess even found a bit of comfort in the heavy darkness of the trunk, in only hearing the men's voices or their movements.
Darkness wasn't a demon here. It was safe.
She had a feeling that if she ever found herself in danger in Gotham, she'd immediately run for the back doors of one of these vans.
They unloaded in an open field about five miles beyond city limits, a place surrounded by chain liked fences and barbed wire. The ground was dusty, with dried weeds poking up out of it every couple of yards and swaying lazily in the wind.
When Jess jumped out of the back of the van, she stretched, taking a deep breath of fresh air. She'd forgotten how good it was to be outside during the day, to watch the blue sky and sparse clouds, to feel the warmth of the sun.
She wandered around, sticking close to the van, and spotted a copse of trees about fifty yards to the left of where they were parked.
As the men hoisted the crate out of the vehicle and started to set up the three dummies as targets—Jess had assumed it was some sort of shot practice anyway, so she wasn't surprised to find rifles coming out of the vans next—she wandered to the trees' outer edges and took a seat on a mossy fallen log, reveling in the summertime warmth.
The Joker was strutting around by the men, she saw, drawing lines on the ground with the butt of a rifle and posing the mannequins into obscene positions, a blue military uniform hat placed askew, for whatever reason, atop his light green hair.
It was odd to see him in daylight, Jess realized. Before, she'd only ever watched him obscure himself in darkness or beneath the dim light of a flickering bulb. He was a true creature of the dark. But now, somehow, the sunlight was flattering on him. Bathed in the gentle glow of Earth's closest star, it forgave him the scars and the cracked skin and the sweat streaked makeup.
He was, to Jess at least, a beautiful tragedy, trying to pass himself off as a monster.
The members of the Lucky Twenty, including Drew and Blake—Billy was absent due to his healing arm—as well as the members of Arkham's Finest, White and Schiff, were being lined up into two columns, facing each other, and the Joker walked down the center with White, handing all of the men along the way a decorative, but surely operative, military rifle. Jess frowned.
Laurence had mentioned being part of the parade. Were they going to pass themselves off as some float and shoot the mayor during the procession?
She stood, curious, and walked towards them. The men were all talking and joking, pretending to stand straight and look serious before snorting at how ridiculous the person beside them looked doing the same thing. That would all change, Jess knew, as soon as the Joker took it in his head to call them to attention. But for now, he allowed their chatting.
Jess walked to the head of the lines and looked down at her men, fiddling with a spare rifle she'd found on the ground. She cocked her head, still trying to figure out what kind of float used guns and why there would be an actual float in a funeral parade anyway.
When the Joker placed his uniform cap on Schiff's head and the man giggled shiftily, it all clicked. Jess laughed.
"You're supposed to be the Honor Guard," she chuckled to Keith, who stood at mock attention to her right.
"That's right, kiddo," he said, slumping back into his usual posture. "When the mayor gets on that platform…" He raised his rifle and aimed playfully into the air. "Bang! We pop the old man in the head."
Jess cringed at the visual and distanced herself from the mayor. She'd never met him, after all, and she knew what the Joker was trying to do. The mayor was a symbol of Gotham's authority and order. Killing him would plunge the city into chaos.
And it would probably bring out the Batman.
The Joker hadn't mentioned the caped crusader much, but every time he heard something about the vigilante his ears seemed to perk up and he'd join in enthusiastically.
You didn't have to be Einstein to figure out the Joker's obsessions.
It seemed to be less about the Batman himself, though. The Joker was obsessed with who the Batman wasn't. That was, his secret identity. Because when that was out, the Batman was out. And the Joker wanted to know so that he could control whether or not it got out.
If he was always holding over the Batman's head that he knew who he really was…
Those consequences Jess wasn't ready to face. And neither, she was sure, were the rest of the Twenty. As loyal to their boss as they were, the idea of facilitating his discovery of Bruce Wayne was not appealing. Their whole world could unravel, never mind what it would do to Gotham or the Dark Knight himself.
Jess, actually, was a little concerned for the Joker, too.
Winning this battle would be like killing the Batman. Jess knew enough from the comics that this would unravel the Joker's being. Without an archenemy, he'd forget how to exist. The Batman had, or would, change everything and the Joker didn't really want to know.
He wanted an excuse to wreak anarchy.
But he was obsessed with knowing.
Jess shook her head at the irony.
"Men," she muttered.
Was the Joker even a man?
"What about my gender?" Keith asked.
Jess blinked. She hadn't realized he was there anymore. Her thoughts seemed to be eating her up more and more as of late.
What was wrong with her?
"You're doing it all wrong," she said hurriedly, trying to cover up her space out. "Your back is too hunched."
Keith frowned and arched his back out. Jess laughed.
"Here," she said, placing the straight rifle against Keith's back. "Conform your shape to this."
It had worked when the yoga instructor at the gym she used to go to had placed a bamboo rod against her to keep her back straight, and a gun would get Keith's attention. He immediately straightened to it as best he could. Jess nodded and took the gun away, backing up.
"Better," she said.
Keith grinned but stayed still, afraid to lose this disciplined position.
"Tilt your chin up," Jess ordered, laughing despite herself. This was kind of fun! She wondered why she'd never tried directing before.
Keith's chin immediately shot up into the air and she had to push it back down until he looked proud but not ridiculous.
"Now," Jess said, "put the rifle to your shoulder and complete the look."
Keith clumsily held the rifle up and Jess, now laughing freely, molded his arm and wrist joints so that he looked stiff and regimented. She backed away, noticing that by now more than a few of the men had tried to imitate Keith. Apparently, she'd started with the one with the best posture of the group, because her men were failing dismally to look anything close to controlled. Well… except for Powers, whom she knew used to be a police officer before what he called "the incident" had plunged him into the New York drug world. He'd been one of those corrupt cops, more interested in helping the crime lords than hurting them, for two years before the Joker had contacted him.
"Well, my work here is done," the Joker said from close by… too close by.
Jess turned to find him leaning against his rifle, just behind her. He paced up to her and studied Keith, his eyebrows raised, impressed. Then, he cleared his throat, turned to Powers and motioned for him to step out of line to teach. Powers immediately began coaching the men on their Honor Guard posture, using much the same technique as Jess had, only hitting them when they got it wrong.
The Joker slid an arm around her shoulder and whispered, "Let's take a walk" in her ear.
Shuddering despite the warm sun, Jess let him lead her along.
They arrived quickly at the grove of trees she'd visited earlier. Jess looked back and found that Powers was doing his job well, coaching them in the movements to use and the positions to take. It wasn't long before a few scattered shots were fired into the air, causing the birds in the trees to take flight.
"Come on," the Joker muttered, pulling her in between the trees so that she could no longer see the group.
She could have felt nervous… she should have felt nervous. But the sunlight and the chirping birds and the light and the varied, muffled orders Powers barked at the men made it difficult, especially when the Joker backed away and gave her some space.
She turned to him and watched as he leaned against a tree, his dark eyes coming up to study her face.
"You've been avoiding me," he said lowly, softly.
Jess shook her head.
"No," she said. "You've been busy today."
The Joker giggled slightly, staring at her so long that she broke eye contact out of sheer discomfort and looked to the ground.
"I notice a lot," the Joker said. "You of all people… You oughta know that."
Jess shrugged, deciding to come clean.
"I wasn't sure what your reaction would be," she said, "after last night, I mean. I wasn't sure you wanted anyone to know. I wasn't sure I wanted anyone to know."
"How common of you, Jesster," the Joker said with a laugh. "And how… whimsical. I don't know what sort of…" he cleared his throat, "teenaged fantasies you have whirling around in that little brain of yours but this…" He took a step towards her and she managed not to shrink away. "This, uh… thing we have going here? It doesn't need to be secretive. See, I'm just not that invested in it. Secret denotes importance."
Jess shook her head, forcing herself not to feel the pain that had hit her at his words. It wasn't true. She knew he was lying. She could tell.
"I'm calling you on that one," Jess said, her eyes frosty as she looked at him. His grin fell off.
"Huh?"
"If you weren't, as you so charmingly put it, invested in me, then you wouldn't have bothered to invite me here in the first place."
The Joker opened his mouth to say something, doubtlessly a cunning comeback that would leave her ego shattered and her gasping for breath. But she started speaking again without letting him.
"You wouldn't have bothered to ever kiss me in the first place or get all pissed when I rejected you. You wouldn't be speaking to me right now and you certainly wouldn't have visited me last night. If you weren't interested in me, if you didn't feel invested in me, I'd be at the curb by now, kicked out or ignored. So don't feed me your bullshit about how unimportant I am to you, you stupid fucking bastard!"
Her voice had risen to a yell and at the conclusion of her words, before she'd realized it, the Joker's knife was drawn and he had hurdled at her, slamming her against the rough bark of a maple tree behind her, his blade pressed sharply into her cheek.
Instant regret flooded her. He had that look in his eyes: merciless, infuriated. Ready to kill. Finally, she'd said too much.
"Y'know, I'm never less than surprised at your idiocy, Jess," the Joker hissed savagely.
Jess could feel, as the blade dug into her skin, a small well of blood forming along her cheekbone.
"I won't lie, though. I'm always impressed by you. You just have this way of…" he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as though completely disgusted or annoyed, "always saying the wrong thing." He opened his eyes and found hers, frowning as brown gaze met brown gaze, a sudden pensive look crossing his features. "And you mentioned being curbed, trashed. You don't have to tell me you're still here. I mean, I know I haven't gotten rid of you. You remind me every day. But that's hardly my fault."
He paused, took a shallow breath and glanced to the side, paranoid.
"Y'see, I find something very… strange happening to me. It's change. It's your… song. But somehow, this time… I don't like what it's doing."
Jess waited for him to go on but he didn't.
"What's that?" she asked softly, figuring he wanted her to buy into his bait.
His gaze shifted away uncomfortably and he licked his lips. It was a few moments before he answered, his voice soft, once again on the edge of breaking.
"I don't want to kill you," he muttered.
Then, with no more ado, he shoved her roughly against the tree, backed away, turned and left her, heading for the men on the other end of the field.
Jess stayed frozen at the tree, trying to catch her breath, a hand pushed against her chest, eyes wide with shock. Slowly, she slid down the tree trunk and sat, staring into nothing, as she mulled over his words.
"I don't want to kill you," the Joker had said.
Holy shit! Coming from him, that was like telling her he was in love with her!
It was possibly the sweetest compliment she'd ever receive from him. She was determined to relish it.
Jess closed her eyes and kept the image of his scarred, imperfect, beautiful lips forming those words in her mind's eye for as long as she could, even as closely grouped shots from twelve different guns split the silence.
A couple of hours later, the men were still going at it, but their technique had greatly improved. Jess leaned against the back of the van with Blake, who was taking a well deserved break, and watched as Powers barked some incomprehensible order—incomprehensible to Jess, anyway; to the men it seemed perfectly understandable—and, as one, the men hit the butts of their guns against the ground and brought them uniformly up to their shoulders.
Powers barked another command, something that must have been equivalent to "aim," because the men raised their muzzles into the high into the air, the two columns and guns looking like a tunnel of soldiers. Then…
"Fire!"
BANG! The sound was deafening and despite being ready for it, Jess still jumped.
"Fire!"
Again, all the guns in the group went off, perfectly in unison.
Jess couldn't keep her eyes from straying towards where the Joker stood, a rifle to his shoulder. He was the best of the lot, in aim as well as style. Obviously if the man put his mind to something, he didn't fail. He was going to be the one to swing around on the third shot and put a bullet between the eyes of the mayor, and he never once missed his target of the dummy set up quite a ways away from the gunmen. The mannequin was peppered with holes by now, and most of its head was gone.
"Alright!" Powers called, smiling widely and wiping sweat off of his brow, gathered there from the heat of the midday sun. "If it's cool with you, boss, I think these guys are ready!"
The Joker didn't smile. He looked around at his group of criminals very seriously, weighing the pros and cons of staying out and doing some more work. Finally, he nodded.
"Into the vans," he ordered, tossing his gun at Powers and heading towards the vehicles.
On his way past her, the Joker casually pulled Jess to his side and helped her climb up into the cab. She caught the confused looks of a few men and the shaking heads of Drew and Blake, but was distracted when the Joker actually pulled her onto his lap, her back against the car door. Blake, torn between a smirk and a grimace of disgust, only glanced at them as he got into the driver's seat.
The Joker was humming lowly, his face as serene as it could be, and his fingers drummed her hip bones gently. Jess shifted until she was comfortable, sitting sideways on the Joker, and tried to hide the blush on her face as the car started.
About five minutes into the drive home, the Joker shifted and pulled a small white pill box from his pocket.
"Want one?" he asked, smiling at Jess, who looked down to see the same little capsules she'd had a few nights ago.
Her eyes widened, surprised at just how tempted she was to take one, and nodded slowly. The Joker laughed, popped a pill into his mouth, withdrew one for Jess and threw the box carelessly at Blake, who immediately swallowed one.
(A/N: DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE IS DANGEROUS AND STUPID. BLAKE IS DANGEROUS AND STUPID. Remember, they're criminals. You're (probably) not.)
The Joker turned to Jess, the little piece of magic shining between his fingers. Jess stared at it.
She hadn't been aware before now just how much she'd liked the feeling of the drug coursing through her veins. There'd been no craving, no withdrawal. But now, with the drug in sight… She wanted it more than she could possibly say.
"Open wide…" the Joker said darkly, a malicious smile curving his lips.
Jess opened her mouth enough for him to place the pill slowly between her lips. Bravely laying half a kiss on his fingers when they touched her mouth, Jess swallowed the pill, ready this time for the effect it would have on her. She looked into the Joker's rapidly dilating pupils and sighed.
Tonight had just gotten a whole lot more fun.
They were at the theater before Jess really realized she was high. But she was.
Oh, she was.
The world was beautiful once more and, if anything, this experience was more intense than before.
She jumped smoothly out of the van once they had parked, wobbling slightly as she realized she was no longer moving, watching the other men gather around those with pill boxes—apparently there were more than one in circulation between the Lucky Twenty and an almost infinite supply of the pills from various hookups around Gotham—or light joints in the cool air. Jess watched the smoke blow away hazily, leaning on the Joker for support as they walked towards their home.
His hands around her hips were steadying and comforting, but more than that. Tonight she was invariably attracted to him, wanting him freely now that there were no barriers of sensibility to get in the way.
She was high. She could afford to want him.
She clutched his back and laughed as he kicked open the fire escape door and led her inside, mumbling words she didn't care to understand. After a moment, she realized he was speaking again in French, talking to himself, but she couldn't take the time to translate his words, not when the hallway was tilting so beautifully.
His red lipstick was the only thing she could see in the dark, and his mouth and scars tantalized her, as beautiful as everything else but more so because they weren't supposed to be. Jess sighed, giggled, and leaned into him.
"Thanks, J," she whispered, deciding suddenly that "J" was the perfect name for him. "For the pill, I mean."
"Don't thank me just yet, Jesster," the Joker muttered. Jess frowned.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, "you don't know what I'm thinking."
Jessica nodded. Somehow, it made sense to her.
"Okay," she said. "I take it back. I don't thank you."
The Joker chuckled and pushed open the door to the rec room. Jess blinked, surprised they were already there and surprised to hear the voices of the men behind her. For a while she'd been sure they were alone.
"Y'know, Jesster," the Joker, "I like you when you're like this. You're so… cheerful. You oughta try that more often."
Jess nodded.
"I should," she agreed.
Pounding music. Flood of lights. Grinding bodies. Pushing hands.
For a while, it was easy to imagine she was back home, at a concert with friends.
Dancing represented freedom from self here, just as the Joker had mentioned. She threw her arms around each of the members of the Lucky Twenty in turn, loving the feel of their rhythm matching hers. It wasn't that she was a good dancer—usually she hated it—but everyone was drunk or high or both and inhibition was gone with the wind.
She'd lost track of the Joker long ago, but sometimes caught glimpses of him on the couch, surrounded by henchmen, laughing or talking or shouting or smiling.
Usually smiling.
Sometimes he was drinking. Sometimes he was smoking or pill popping or inhaling a pinch of white powder up his nose. Sometimes he just sat there with a faraway look, lost in his own haze of drug abuse.
But mostly, when Jess caught sight of him, he was smiling.
"Babe, you've got no rhythm," Billy muttered into her ear.
She'd been spending most of her time dancing with him tonight, but that was to be expected. If another man pulled her away, she'd go laughing but, as always, Jess found herself coming back to Billy. It was fun to see him in the same state she was in. Usually so careful with her, so intense, so serious about her safety, tonight Billy encouraged her to act as crazy as she could and danced with her in a way that was far beyond innocent.
But, of course, how could she ever care what Billy did when she was thinking so much about the Joker?
"I've got rhythm," Jess argued, laughing as she stumbled. Billy pulled her closer. "I am just very, very wasted, Billy. It's hardly my fault."
Billy's grin faltered momentarily, as though he'd heard something in her voice that bothered him, but after a second his smile was back.
"No one's blaming you for your lack of dance skills," he slurred. "I'm sure you've got plenty of other skills to make up for it."
Jess laughed, not hearing the flirtation in his tone.
"Oh sure," she said. "I'm a skilled ninja!"
She loved making Billy laugh, especially when what she'd said made no sense. His chuckle was golden warm honey, deep and easy, and when he was amusedly bewildered by her words there was a playful ring to it.
"Oh, Jess," he sighed, putting his head against her shoulder. "You know I love you, right?"
Jess nodded, nuzzling him.
"I love you too, Billy."
Billy pulled away slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. Through the swirling madness of her drug laden mind, suddenly there were only Billy's bright green irises, beautiful and unique. Like stars.
She was so busy looking at them that she didn't notice they'd gotten closer.
It wasn't until she felt Billy's lips on hers that she realized what happened.
Before she could react, pull away, apologize somehow for whatever she'd done to make him think that was okay, Billy was shoved off of her by unseen hands, too quickly for Jess to register.
Blinking in confusion, Jess turned and watched in a blur as, almost in slow motion with colors streaming out behind him, Billy stumbled back and growled angrily at his assailant.
A laugh, high and mocking, split the ambiance and Jess found herself being pulled away, a hand tight around her armm, still unsure as to what was going on.
As she was pulled to the hallway, she looked back at Billy.
He was yelling something she couldn't hear over the music, looking more angry, more hurt, than she'd ever seen him.
For a moment she wanted to go back and ask what was wrong, but the hand around her wrist tightened and she whirled away into the darkness of the theater corridors.