Hey guys! I feel so bad for leaving you hanging this long. The end of the year REALLY caught up with me. It was tough just getting up and going to school in the morning because I was so ready to be done with high school. And it's just been SOOOO busy.

But I'm out now. Hooray!

Graduation is boring.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. They make my day. I want to say thanks especially this time to Tamara Evans. I had no intention of even working on this until the end of the year but she sent me this enormous review full of EXACTLY what I needed at the time to get me going. Thanks, Tamara!

I'm glad you all like this so much. And once again, I REALLY apologize for making you wait so long. This chapter took a lot out of me. I wrestled with a few major decisions in it. You'll see one right away ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Seriously, love you all!

Review, please, even though I don't deserve it because I'm a terrible updater…

Oh! And listen to "Alone Down There" and 'A Different City" by Modest Mouse… Even though we're not at that part of the story yet… :)

"Powers is hurt. Real hurt."

The announcement came from Billy as soon as the vans parked and the doors were opened.

Jess had been listening in amusement to the Joker's cheesy jokes during the ride home and giggling despite herself (his hand had been on her thigh, squeezing at every punch line, and all she wanted to do was drag him into the theater and retreat to the green room) but upon hearing this and seeing Billy's grim face as he looked in the back doors to the van, she immediately sobered and scooted forward, out of the Joker's reach.

"What? How?"

Billy sighed.

"Shot. In the stomach. It's… it's not looking too good."

Jess looked back in horror at the boss, wanting to see his reaction to this news. His smile was gone, yes, but he didn't look worried. On the contrary, he seemed… bored. He was still leaning back in the same position he had been, though the hand that had been on Jess's leg was now resting casually on his stomach. When he caught Jess's eye, he shrugged.

Billy saw all this, of course, and went on, swallowing his concern for Powers and continuing to report. Jess was reeling.

"We lost Schiff, as well. Peter saw him being dragged off by that Dent guy. No idea where he took him."

That did make the Joker stiffen and sit up.

"Dent?" he said. Then, he started to giggle. "Dent got him?" His giggles grew in intensity and soon shrieks of laughter escaped his lips. "That… That is too perfect… What's he gonna do? Look pretty at him?" He hooted with laughter. "Ooh, but isn't cute little Dent going to be so upset when he sees the name on Schiff's tag!"

This last comment was way over Jess's head but now she had two things to worry about.

"What if Schiff talks?" Billy asked immediately, voicing one of her fears.

The Joker looked at him slowly and licked his lips.

"He won't," he said, with such perfect confidence that for a moment Jess absolutely believed him.

Billy wasn't so easy, however, and his skepticism registered clearly on his face.

"Boss, Schiff's not too strong, you know? In the head? What if Dent…"

The Joker laughed again.

"What if Dent what?" he asked ironically. "Tortures him? No. No, no, no. See, Dent has this… unalterable sense of justice. He likes to resist. A lot like the Jesster, here."

He motioned at Jess and Billy looked confused. Jess, remembering the conversation in which her resistance had come up, shrugged at Billy, trying to communicate that she'd tell him later.

"What Dent does, what he says, will have no affect on Schiff. Besides…" the Joker smiled slightly. "He doesn't know where we are. Blindfolds do wonders."

Jess couldn't contain herself any longer. Once the Joker had finished speaking, she turned to Billy and rushed to say, "Where's Powers?"

It sort of annoyed her that Billy looked up at the Joker for an okay to lead her away. The boss shifted and sat forward, then started to climb out of the van, obviously coming with them to see Powers. Jess followed him hurriedly, anxious about her friend's condition.

Billy had said, "It doesn't look good" and while he wasn't an optimist, he wasn't cynical either. He was realistic. That thought scared Jess.

Billy offered a chivalric hand to help her step down and she looked at him worriedly. He smiled, trying to comfort, but she saw the fear in his eyes, too. She looked down, not wanting to face that, and he put an arm around her shoulder.

With a surprisingly small amount of noise, the Joker also jumped out of the van and followed behind them.

The three of them entered the theater silently and walked down the hall to the backstage area, entering one of the dressing rooms Jess had never been inside. Three beds were lined up against the walls and various bags and pieces of clothing belonging to the men who shared the room were scattered about.

Around the bed at the far corner, a cluster of people had gathered, silent and grim, looking intently down at the figure between the sheets.

As soon as Jess caught a look at him, she gasped in dismay.

She'd never seen Powers so gray or weak, laying in bed feebly, his head tilted to the side, his hand up to the large bandage on his stomach which was still not doing a very good job at suppressing the blood. It was soaked through with red. The coppery smell of it hung in the air, mingling with the odor of the sick sweat from Power's drenched face.

One of the men, Alex, was dabbing his forehead softly with a white cloth but it was doing nothing to comfort him. His breathing was shallow and raspy, the dying rattle of a man who was not going to make it.

Suddenly, Jess felt very scared, very weak and very sad. She gripped Billy's arm in an attempt not to fall down and they moved forward.

"Powers…" she whispered as she took a place beside his bed.

The Joker was hanging back by the doorway, mercifully silent, but she could feel his eyes on her, calculating and cold. She shook the thought away and looked back to her injured friend.

His eyes were glazed over. He seemed not to be able to see anymore.

"Mom?" Powers asked.

Jess let out a sob of dismay and reached down to hold his hand. She shivered at how cold it was.

The rest of the men were completely still and silent, watching Jessica and Powers, no one wanting to say anything to upset the invalid. Powers smiled weakly at the warmth of Jess's skin and closed his eyes.

"I can't feel anything," he said. Jess squeezed his hand. "I'm cold. Everything's cold and dark."

"It's okay. You're going to be okay."

But there was no reassurance in her voice. She couldn't even get herself to believe it.

"I'm sorry, mom," he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. "I wasn't a very good cop."

"You're a great cop," Jess whispered, choking on tears. She swallowed, wanting him to find peace wherever he could. "And you're an amazing son. And friend."

"I love you, mom."

Jess sobbed, unable to help it escape her lips.

"I love you, too," she replied.

Powers' smile widened slightly and then his face changed to a look of intense agony. He let out a weak gasp…

"Powers?" Jess asked, squeezing his hand again but this time feeling no response in his pulse or a twitch of the fingers. Panic and sadness welled up in her chest and she started to cry huge shuddering tears. "Powers?!" She shook and tapped at his hand but he stayed still, his skin suddenly much colder.

Or perhaps she just felt much colder.

"NO!" she screamed, and felt Billy's hands on her shoulders. She turned and pressed her face into his chest, sobbing great heaving cries, whispering, "He can't, he can't, he can't be dead!"

Jess felt Billy's hands stroke her hair. And she felt him bury his face in her shoulder.

And she felt him cry, too.

They stayed with Powers' body for another hour or so, no one wanting to deal with it, no one speaking, everyone crying or staring or sitting with their head in their hands.

As time went by, men began to whisper to each other reverently, words to Powers' soul or his body or God or whoever they believed in to keep him safe and happy in the afterlife. Jess sat on a bed, crying quietly for most of the time. She couldn't believe this had happened. Even now, it seemed like a dream, like Powers would just wake up and be fine, ready for another day.

The Joker didn't move from his spot by the door. He knew when to be deferential. If he wasn't, he would have lost the respect and loyalty of every single person in the room. He knew that.

Jess did not want to be alone. But as people started to leave, saying good night, saying they just wanted to go to bed, and a few men started to load the mattress and Powers' body onto an old gurney they'd found or stolen or bought or something--Jess didn't care; what did it matter?--to take him and bury him, she found she needed to get out of there. She hadn't been particularly close to Powers out of the rest of the Twenty, but close enough to grieve him, to love him and to miss him. She was close to all of them like that. And she could only marvel and kind of admire the bravery of the men who were dealing with his body with an almost "business as usual" air.

But it was all tinged with an undertone of deep mourning and deep respect. They'd lost a comrade.

One of their own had fallen.

That thought was hideous. As was the question: what did a soul from the real world do when in died in the world of Gotham?

Was his death only fiction as well?

Jess stood up and walked slowly to the door. Billy caught up with her halfway there and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her from the place. The Joker, also seeming to decide his respects were paid, followed them in silence for a while, until, seeing that they were headed in the direction of Billy's room, he came up beside them.

"Alright, Billy Boy," he said, also sliding his arm over Jess's shoulder and, in the process, knocking Billy aside. "I can take her from here…"

Anger flashed in Billy's eyes and, in a moment, he had tugged Jess roughly away from the Joker, who stopped in the hall, eyebrows raised in significant surprise. Jess looked between them, confused, tears still leaking from her eyes.

"She needs to be with friends, clown!" Billy all but screamed, his emotions suddenly catching up with him in a way that absolutely terrified Jess. His voice broke and he started to cry harshly. "You'll make her crazy if you just take her away!"

The Joker stared at him coldly, no feeling registering in his eyes. Looking at him, Jess started to cry harder, scared for yet another reason, shocked by his lack of empathy, even with her. She had come to hope that perhaps she could be starting bring out the human in him, but seeing him now, that hope vanished and she felt cold, utterly cold, and more broken than she ever had in her life.

Powers was dead.

She'd chosen the Joker over Billy.

Billy would probably die, too, if he didn't keep fighting.

And it was too late to change any of it!

"Oh, poor Billy," the Joker said, the mockery in his voice as cutting as his knife. "This is a song you've sung before!"

Billy stared at him, hard, his eyes full of hate.

"Fuck you, clown!" he said, quietly but with so much angry passion that Jess felt, were she the target of his rage, she would be blown over.

The Joker, in his way, was also impressed.

Letting his irritation with Billy momentarily get the best of him, he instantaneously grabbed a knife from somewhere in his jacket--a scary, six inch blade--and lunged at the man. Had Jess not been there, she was sure the Joker would have wounded Billy seriously. There was murder in his eyes.

As it was, Jess was caught in the struggle and, before the Joker had time to rectify his movements, she felt the blade dig deeply into her left shoulder, all the way to the hilt of the knife.

Her scream of pain stopped the fight and she clutched at the blade protruding from her shoulder, adrenaline pumping so high she couldn't even hear herself as her scream echoed and then died into little wails of pain. She broke away from Billy, feeling her own blood spill over her hands, knowing she'd never experienced this kind of pain before, nor pain so intense.

No one would understand until they got stabbed, feel the muscle slice and tendons snap, feel the blade scrape across bone.

Jess fell to the floor, panting, her body going cold in shock and her vision blurring. Christ, was she such a wimp? She'd seen many war movies in which people had been shot through the heart and still managed to crawl and save their fallen partners…

Men had run down the halls at the sound of her yells, from Powers' room, and they surrounded her, talking loudly, asking questions, not wanting to touch her as she cradled her blood staunched arm, aware for the first time that she could no longer move the fingers of it. She let out another sob, this one of terror, and the men lurched backwards, then leaned forward.

Things seemed to pulsate and swim until, suddenly, one of them knelt down, took hold of the hilt of the knife and quickly wrenched it out of her shoulder.

Jess screamed in pain, falling forward into the shoulder of the man who had ripped it away, and he caught her. She heard the knife clatter to the ground in a sort of echoing haze.

Now the inside of her shoulder burned with a fiery intensity sharper than she'd felt before. Vaguely, she sensed a wadded ball of cloth being pressed firmly against her skin to staunch the flow of blood and familiar breathing filled her ears.

She took a deep shuddering breath into the chest of the man she was leaning against, trying to make herself stop crying but focusing too hard on the intense pain she was in, and as she breathed she smelled a familiar scent: mingled burnt matches, gasoline, and sweat with a deeper, darker, masculine aroma.

She suddenly felt very comforted, despite being in the arms of the man who had just stabbed her, and she reached her good arm--her right arm--up and folded it around his neck, pulling herself closer. The men around them quieted as though in shock and Jess vaguely heard the sound of footsteps as they receded down the hall, as though someone had just walked away in disgust. She didn't have to guess who the footsteps belonged to.

She felt the Joker wrap his arm around her waist and for a moment she was touched that he was comforting her like this. But then she felt him pull and realized he was only trying to get her to stand up. Not knowing what to do, only wanting to be taken care of now, she slowly let herself be lifted to her feet, still letting out panicked wails whenever her shoulder flashed fire.

"Oh, shh, shh, shh, shh…" she heard the Joker coo in her ear.

Coo wasn't the right word, not at all, but she was so comforted by him--indescribably, unbelievably, strangely comforted for no reason at all but the way he held her--that anything he did felt soothing and sweet.

Standing on her left, he wrapped an arm around her waist and kept his other hand up to staunch the blood with the fabric he'd apparently pulled from nowhere. Then, he walked her down the hall, ignoring the questions of the men, no emotion registering on his face.

"Sit down."

His tone was an order but Jess was glad to do it, all but falling onto the couch in the greenroom. She winced when the movement jolted her injury but otherwise, sitting was far superior to standing. A few unopened water bottles were laying in a box on the table and she reached over for one, eager to wet her dry lips.

The Joker had walked behind her, wandering about the room, humming some tune he'd probably just invented and Jess leaned back against the couch, taking sips of the room temperature water and whimpering in pain every time her shoulder throbbed.

After only a few moments of silence, she felt the couch cushion to her left depress as the Joker took a seat beside her. Taking no pains for her comfort, he pulled her heavy sweater over her head, stretched the neck of her bloodsoaked dress down over her shoulder and examined the wound for a moment. Jess's eyes fluttered open and she turned just in time to see him lift up a glass bottle of clear liquid and dump it onto her shoulder.

Jess screamed as searing pain ripped through her, the alcohol making her injury burn horribly. She started to cry great heaving tears and wail like a banshee, but the Joker slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, grabbing her cheeks in the process and hauling her face closer to his.

"I'm trying…" he dropped the now-empty Vodka bottle and pressed the bloodstained cloth back to her shoulder, wiping away most of the blood around the damaged area, "to help you." He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at her. "If you're gonna scream, you can just bleed."

Jess shut her mouth tightly, knowing that, regardless of the pain, this would help to heal her. The Joker looked down at her left hand, laying limp on the couch, and poked her palm with a gloved finger.

"D'you feel that?" he asked.

Jess nodded as he started to systematically poke each of her fingers. She could feel the sensations, yes, but she could scarcely move the hand. She told him as much.

Hearing this, the Joker stopped poking her and sat back, a satisfied look on his face.

"Your hand will be fine," he reassured her, as though he'd gone to medical school and knew all about these sorts of injuries.

Still, for that indefinable reason, Jess was very satisfied and comforted by what he said.

"Now…"

The Joker turned back to the little table behind him and picked up something small and silver that Jess couldn't see very well in this light. Her head was starting to throb and she groaned and took a gulp of water. She watched her clown as he straightened back towards her, whatever he had picked up dragging a long, black, thin cord of string.

She suddenly realized what it was, what the boss was planning to do, and jerked away from him, her shoulder screaming in protest.

"No way, no way, no WAY!" she yelled, that phrase being the only one she could come up with in her panic.

The Joker sighed and grabbed her right arm, pulling him roughly towards her. The needle he held glinted in the dim light and Jess felt extremely faint. She couldn't just be stitched up like some rag doll!

"Don't scream," he ordered, looking at her horrified face for a moment before making a discontented noise in the back of his throat and reaching into his inner jacket pocket for something. He brought out a small syringe with a little bit of clear fluid and shook it, testing the level of the drug or medicine or whatever.

"Here," he said, and swiftly the jammed the needle into Jess's shoulder, about three inches away from the wound. He pressed the back and she felt the liquid rush into her bloodstream. She gasped in pain and surprise.

"That'll make it a little hard to feel," the Joker told her, his voice on the edge of a giggle.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to convey how completely betrayed she felt, then blinked as the awful sensation from her shoulder began to diminish and after only a moment, her entire arm went numb.

It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't pain.

"How do you just carry shit like that around?" she asked, her voice croaky and hoarse from screaming.

The Joker gave her a short smile but otherwise ignored her question, picking up the needle again. She regarded it warily as he brought it towards her arm but he offered no words of comfort.

She couldn't even feel it pierce her skin and, as he started to sew her up, the only sensation she knew was a slight tugging as the thread was pulled taught. She watched his method with extreme interest. This needle was no suturing tool and to be able to so expertly pull her skin together without one was pretty incredible.

"Y'know," he began after the second stitch, just as she had come to expect, "I don't see why you get yourself into these kinds of situations."

Jess didn't comment on how she'd hardly gotten herself into this. She'd just kind of been there. It was his fault.

But she didn't want another injury from arguing with him. It would only prove his point.

"You oughta just keep away from trouble, but you don't. I think you have a nose for it. Don't you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "I don't like it," he said, shaking his head, his eyes still on her wound as he continued to stitch. "Getting yourself into trouble only makes trouble for me. I don't enjoy having to fix you." He stopped, finishing her stitches, and bit off the length of extra thread. Then, he bent down and grabbed another Vodka bottle.

"I don't enjoy having to be fixed," Jess told him quietly as he poured alcohol on her arm. Thanks to the numbing stuff, she felt only the tiniest sting.

"Don't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Jess frowned and shook her head. The Joker only smiled knowingly, as though he was more aware of her than she was.

"Why do you?" Jess challenged, hating when he was all high and mighty like this. "Why don't you just leave me be?"

"We've already gone through this, Jesster," the Joker said. His voice was light but she could read the annoyance under it. "You've asked that question before."

"So give me a straight answer," Jess said, taking another gulp of water as the Joker roughly started to wind a long white piece of cloth around her shoulder, under her arm and around her shoulder again. "Not more of this 'I don't care, I picked you by chance' crap. Things have changed, haven't they? And you're still tending to me."

The Joker stopped and sat back, obviously displeased by her choice of words.

"Tending..." he said.

He stood up and started to pace back and forth, his features torn between irritation and laughter. Finally, he stopped and faced her.

"Things have changed," he said. "I mean, you know that. It's not hard to see. But, uh…" He hesitated, choosing his words, and his fingers wagged slightly in the air in front of him. Finally, he took a breath. "Okay, so, listen…" He sat down again, arms sprawled against the back of the couch. "There are two things," he said, "that I have, that are mine. Irrevocably, unequivocally, indefinitely mine. So, uh, by their very nature, no one can take them. And no one can touch them." He said the last part fiercely, unmistakably protective and jealous.

Jess frowned, wondering what he meant, wondering what he considered his.

What he said surprised her.

"The first is this city," he said, turning to look out the window. "Gotham…"

The way he said that name… it was harsh and disgusted but had this overtone of desire and some kind of tenderness she'd only ever heard him voice for it.

"Gotham's mine. Everybody knows it. Even the Batman knows it and he's just fighting to get it back." He giggled. "But he can't. This city, like everything else, has changed forever. No matter what, it's mine. I like that."

"So what's the other thing?" Jess asked.

"See, you were right about that one," the Joker said, pointing to her. "You've changed too. And that change has given you to me."

Jess frowned.

"I'm the second thing?" she asked.

"Smart girl…" the Joker said, almost sarcastically. "But try and tell me you're not. Hmm?"

Jess thought a moment, wanting to open her mouth and just argue with him but somehow unable to. She wanted to say she was her own person, that she didn't belong to anyone, but it would have been a lie. She'd even thought before that she was the Joker's girl. So perhaps that was more literal than she'd expected.

It wasn't really news to her so she wasn't surprised. It actually felt sort of refreshing. He had voiced what she'd long suspected.

The Joker looked at her for a moment, but when it became clear to him that she wasn't going to try to argue, he smiled.

"You see why I get upset when you get yourself into trouble?" he asked. "Death is the only thing that'd take you from me."

He stood up then and walked to the window.

Jess stared after him, having been given much to think about. She had come to understand that death in this line of work was a very real possibility, even though she still couldn't quite grasp that Powers had died tonight. And it surprised her to know that the Joker, in his own way, was concerned for her. Or, at least concerned about her dying.

It was weirdly sweet, even if it was selfish.

Jess got up slowly. Her left arm was still entirely numb and she still couldn't really move her fingers very well but the control was coming back and she was extremely grateful. She needed to somehow convey that to him without making him uncomfortable.

She moved up to the Joker, whose back was turned to her as he gazed out over the other thing that he owned, and touched his shoulder blade gently. He hardly twitched, so she grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Hey," she said, looking up into his eyes.

His expression had reverted to one of boredom and slight annoyance that she'd approached him, but she took the chance and leaned up to kiss him.

She tried to keep it from being too sweet and tender but couldn't help it. She felt that way inclined towards him at the moment. He had just stitched up a wound of hers…

After making it, that nagging voice at the back of her head declared, but she ignored it.

He didn't let her kiss go the way it was going for long. After a minute, it deepened and she felt it go darker as he let his mouth tell her of his desire.

But she wasn't exactly in the mood for that. Regardless of the events in the greenroom, she had just been stabbed and her friend had just died.

A twang of sadness as she thought of Powers made her break away with tears in her eyes.

The Joker noticed them and his mouth tightened.

"Get out of here, Jesster," he said, his eyes suddenly murderous for no reason.

Jess tried to think it through as she hurried for the door. Was he jealous she'd been thinking about something else while kissing him? Did he want her thoughts only to be on him?

Was that it?

That was so ridiculous!

Then again, this was the Joker she was dealing with.

She glanced back at him once as she opened the door to leave. He had reverted to his original position, staring out the window, but there was something wrong about the way his hands gripped the sill…

As though under those purple leather gloves, his knuckles would be white.

Jess left, unsure as to whether or not that entire visit had been a success or failure, and walked down halls darkened both by nighttime and death.