Ohhhhh!! I'm so pleased with myself. I'm like a cat who just caught a big bird. This is my favorite thing I've ever written and I think you'll like it too!!! I worked my butt off, so PLEASE REVIEW!!! Can you get up to 400 reviews before next chapter? That's a challenge!

***AN concerns characterization. Read if you're interested!***

I like to try to answer any questions asked by people in reviews and on the last chapter, someone said they didn't understand how, if Billy was a criminal, he could be so righteous and emotional.

Truth be told, my friends, I lol'd.

Yes. I lol'd.

Isn't one of the major themes of this story "Criminals are people, too"?

Yeah. I got themes. Like I'm literary or something.

Now, I don't agree with criminals morally. But they still have feelings! Haha. Billy doesn't approve of murder and chaos. And keep in mind, Billy is a thief. He's not a hitman or some hardened murderer. He's pretty much just a klepto who started shop lifting when he was twelve, which led to bigger and bigger robberies.

(If you want to know the different jobs and what flavor of criminal each member of the Lucky Twenty is, PM me and I will gladly share.)

So. That's why he's emotional and sensitive and stuff. Also, he acts as a foil to the Joker.

Yep. I also got foils. I'm the next Charlotte freakin Bronte

(Oh my God. Timid girl moves "out of her world" to big old creepy place, is ignored by a vaguely deformed guy everyone but the bad guys hate, until he decides he likes her, there's a big passionate romance and she's all torn up about it, big fire, and at the end everyone wonders if he died… but he didn't! YCSSw/oL is Jane Eyre!!)

I hope that answered your question, Anonymouse.***

Ok, listen to:

Heads Will Roll – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Man – Yeah Yeah Yeahs

They're perfect. AND REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love you all! Thanks for not giving up on me. Hope this makes you forgive me for taking SOOOOOO long!!

IMPORTANT: This chapter is rated M for drug use and... ahem... well. Sexual themes. :)

Jess had never felt such dread upon entering the theater than she did upon entering it that night. For the first time since she had come to Gotham, home base was completely deserted upon arrival.

"They'll be fine, Jess," Blake whispered, hugging her close as they opened the back door with a squeal of metal. "The boss has a plan."

"No he doesn't," Jess whispered, gazing into the darkness of the hallway beyond. "He never has a plan."

Blake looked down at her, amused.

"You actually believe that?" he asked. "Maybe he just wants you to think he doesn't. Hell, for all we know he could've wanted to get caught. He plans and forecasts every minute of every day." Blake pulled Jess inside, where the comforting scent of the old playhouse enfolded them, and he sighed. "They'll be fine," he repeated.

Jess wasn't convinced.

"What about Billy?" she insisted. "Or Keith or Josh? Or Jackson? Max? They were around the semi." Tears started to roll again, thick and heavy as lead against her lashes, and Jess drew in a shuddering breath. "They could all have gotten caught! They could all be dead or dying somewhere, lying in a ditch, and we just left them!" Blake pulled her close and she buried her face into his chest, sobbing. "We just left!"

"Listen," Blake whispered softly, "at the time, all that was on my mind was getting you to safety, and I can tell you that every single man in that semi was conscious and breathing. No one is dead in a ditch, Jess. I know it. I can feel it."

For a moment, he sounded so confident that even she could almost feel it.

Comforted by his words, Jess let herself be led to the rec room and sat down on the couch, still anxiously awaiting word or news from any of the others. It didn't take long.

In less than ten minutes, the door to the rec room flew open to reveal Arnold and Boris, guns raised and stances predatory. Jess and Blake jumped up from their seats and raised their hands in surrender, each yelling phrases meant to calm but that probably only served to rile the two men up more, until they connected who Blake and Jess were and, slowly, lowered their weapons.

"We saw the light on under the door," Boris explained, leaning his machine gun against the wall and heading to the fridge to grab a beer. "We thought there were intruders. Cops or something."

"Pity the fool," Blake mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting back down.

Jess put a hand to her chest. She could understand the other men being on guard, but watching them come screaming through the door with cocked weapons had nearly given her a heart attack. She let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You're safe," she told Arnold vacantly, the remark more for her benefit than his.

Now that their initial scare was over, she was able to be almost unbearably relieved.

"You're safe," she whispered again, sitting back down on the couch. Blake slid an arm over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Arnold laughed.

Apart from a cut along his forehead, he looked just fine. Although Boris was slightly worse for wear—bruised and limping—the fact that they weren't dead was cause for ovation in itself. After the Batmobile had crushed the front bumper of their garbage truck, Jess hadn't known what to think.

"Where's White?" Blake asked.

"He was knocked out in the truck," Boris replied. "No sign of moving but he was breathing. He's a big guy. Couldn't have carried him, so we left him. Police cruisers were coming down the tunnel anyway. Every man for himself and all that."

"I'd say he's probably at the MCU with the boss," Arnold said.

"Is that where they took him?" Jess asked, jumping at the mention of the Joker. "Major Crimes?"

Arnold shrugged.

"I'm only guessing here, Jesster."

"MCU's the place to be tonight," someone said from the door, and the group collectively turned to see Laurence and Austin standing there, singed at the edges but otherwise fine as well.

"Oh my God," Jess sighed, another two weights lifting from her shoulders.

She stood up and walked swiftly to the two men, hugging them affectionately, trying to convey how pleased she was that they were alright. She made her rounds to Boris and Arnold, as well. Boris cringed when she wrapped her arms around him and she fussed over his bruised ribs.

While the love-fest was going on, Blake was asking questions.

"You say the MCU's the place to be?"

"Sounds like it," Laurence replied. "Austin and I hid for a while, listened to the pigs talk. They're taking the boss and most of the Twenty to the MCU. Lockin' us all away."

"Except for the five of us," Austin remarked, halfway between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh.

"Make that six," Keith said, walking in behind Laurence.

"Keith!" Jess shrieked excitedly, running over from Boris to bowl him over with an embrace. Another weight was lifted and Keith's relaxed, collected nature would be a blessing tonight. Jess started to cry again, unsure whether it was from relief or anxiety.

Keith looked down on her, crying into his shirt, and threw a panicked glance at Blake.

"She's been crying all night," Blake said, almost pityingly. "Just let her. You're not gonna be able to say anything to make it better."

"It is better," Jess said between sobs. "It's five times better, one for each of you." She looked up to Keith. "Did you see anyone else? Did anyone else get away?"

Keith shook his head grimly.

"I know I saw at least Tom, Jackson, Billy and Seth in cuffs," Austin remarked.

"Josh, Derek and Peter were arrested, too," Keith said. "And others. I was too far away to count but…" he sighed, "I dunno if anyone else is coming back tonight, Jesster."

"Oh, hey, Jess, you'll like this," Laurence said suddenly, grinning. Jess turned her head to look at him, still clinging to Keith. "Jim Gordon? That cop you said you met at the parade?"

"Uh huh?"

"I guess he's alive," Laurence said. "He was the one who got the boss."

Jess didn't comment upon this. She simply turned her face back into Keith's chest and hugged him closer, unable to stop crying. For what reason, she didn't know.

"Ain't she just a doll?" Laurence said affectionately.

"I'm getting her a beer," Blake replied.

No one else did come back for a long time. Jess spent three hours pacing back and forth across the rec room with the five other men, wanting their company but unable to keep from panicking every time she thought of what might be happening at the MCU.

How were they going to get out of this one?

What were the police doing with the Joker?

What were they doing with the rest of them?

Had the Joker even been thinking?

How could he have let this happen?

How could he do this to her?

What if he had been killed?

He'd almost been killed! He'd stood right in front of the Batman and screamed "Hit me!"

How could he be so selfish? Did he know the ramifications of his death?!

What would the rest of them have done? What would she have done?

How would they have gotten back to their universe?

He'd brought them here. He was the only one with any answers.

What would happen to them if he was gone?

Jess's tears were exhausted and she was heading towards anger. She grumbled and sat down next to Blake on the couch, wishing this waiting would come to an end.

"Blake," she said, turning to him, "do we have any pills?"

Jess ran a luxuriant hand through her hair, stretching her back while Blake sat next to her, idly lighting a joint. The pills had quickly been fetched, and the six of them were starting to reach towards that state where nothing mattered and nothing felt bad.

Jess's shoulder, which had started to throb painfully, was now once again a quiet shadow at the back of her head. She managed to smile but found that anxiety was still creeping in on her and she groaned.

"God, I just wish someone would tell us something," she muttered.

"Join the club!" Blake wheezed. "But we can't do anything right now, princess. Let it go."

"I can't, I can't, I can't." Jess shook her head, the following vibrations buzzing pleasantly through her skull. "I can't let him go."

Blake regarded her silently, a little disapprovingly. Then, suddenly, he stood up and placed himself in front of her.

"You're really hung up on him, aren't you?"

Jess giggled, pretending not to understand.

"Who?"

"The boss," Blake said, blunt as usual. "You're really into him?"

Jess smiled and leaned back against the sofa. She took a deep breath as the pill took her away from caring what anyone thought.

"I am," she conceded, "and there's no reason, so don't start asking why. I can't explain. Maybe there are too many reasons."

"Watching you kiss him is weird," said Austin from across the room. "I mean, really disturbing. Stephen King shit."

Jess burst into giggles, throwing her head back and just laughing.

"Thanks," she managed. "That's really kind of you."

"I don't mean anything by it," Austin chuckled. "It's just, you know, he's the fucking Joker, right? You don't see his kind of person get all closed-eyed, tongue-out, touchy-feely with some girl very often. You just don't."

"He's not touchy-feely," Jess burbled. "He's never even close to touchy-feely."

"I don't get how you can do it," Laurence put in from the kitchenette.

Jess took a deep breath.

"Neither can I sometimes," she answered honestly. Suddenly, tears were back. "Guys, I don't know what I'm gonna do without him."

Only under the influence could she ever have admitted something like that. As it was, the amount of understanding the men offered was incredible. Not one of them scoffed or said something scathing. Instead, they all kind of looked at each other, their eyes conveying that they sympathized, if not empathized, with what she had said. Tears rolled down Jess's cheeks.

"I hate feeling like this," she said. "I'm high and I still feel awful. I want them to come back."

"I know what you need," Boris said.

He left the room for a moment, apparently off to fetch something. When he came back, he had a little black case in his hand, out of which he pulled a syringe, already filled with some sort of clear liquid. Jess regarded it warily.

"This will make you feel excellent, Jesster. For a few hours, at least. Hardly any after-effects, too. Some kind of new shit, found only in the comic-verse."

"What is it?"

"Do you wanna know?"

"Not really. Where'd you get it?"

The men glanced at each other, smiling.

"The boss knows a lot of people," Blake said.

Jess bit her lip, still looking warily at the needle. She'd never done an intravenous drug before…

But, hey. Technically the stuff wasn't even real. It was a fictional drug in a fictional world.

"What the hell," she said aloud. "First time for everything, right?"

The tourniquet was applied, the vial was primed, a new, sterile needle was taken from a packet and placed on the syringe.

When the liquid first rushed into Jess's bloodstream from the puncture point on her right, inner arm it felt like ice water, akin to an IV drip at the hospital. Blake, who had done the actual injecting, watched her carefully, kneeling on the ground in front of her. Jess untied the band from around her upper arm and leaned back slowly, trying to decide what she felt.

Euphoria hit her suddenly and she smiled.

"Oh my," she said, floating about three inches above the couch. "Oh my."

The men laughed and got busy shooting up themselves.

There was no time anymore. There was no waiting. Jess hovered and flew, laughing with the men, so glad not to be crying that it only made her laugh harder.

Hours passed. The night blazed away in a rush of loud music and shifting lights. There was no time to reflect, no time to judge or hope or wonder. Jess was too far gone this time, scarily far gone, and if she hadn't trusted the men with her as much as she did, she might have been in serious trouble.

But there would be time to be angry at herself in the morning.

All in all, the high was not a long one. Four a.m. rolled around, the lights beyond the windows grew a little brighter with the onset of dawn, and Jess started to be able to reflect and ponder again

It was when her thoughts returned almost fully that the Joker chose to make his arrival back at the theater.

There was a huge commotion near the theater's entrance. Jess spun around from where she'd been lounging on the couch with Blake and Keith, laughing at some joke she could no longer remember. She stood up and unthinkingly tripped towards the door to the rec room, ignoring the half-hearted warnings from the men with her that she should be careful, it could be the police, come back.

It wasn't the police, though. She knew that. There were many, many voices and most of them were familiar.

Jess started to laugh breathlessly as she stumbled down the hall, towards where the noises of the gathering were coming from. She came upon Drew first, looking tired and worn but extremely happy to be home.

"Jess!" he croaked, and Jess threw herself upon him with a hug.

"Are we all here?" she said. "Everyone's here? Everyone's alive?"

"Everyone who was at the jail got home safe," Drew replied, giving her an affectionate squeeze, "with the exception of White… And about a dozen cops…"

But Jess was off, dancing away from him to greet the others. She didn't really care about White's fate, didn't care about the cops. She was so happy she could faint that they had all survived.

How the hell had they all survived?!

She laughed and hugged and kissed every person who came through that door.

Drew was right. All accounted for, all safe—with the exception of a broken bone or two.

Jess had just spotted Billy, speaking animatedly with Logan, and was about to make her way to him, to beg for forgiveness and tell him she loved him and hoped he could somehow take her back, when she was grabbed roughly around the upper arm.

"You're in a state…"

How could she have forgotten?!

Jess turned around, beaming, to look at the Joker, dressed only in slacks, suspenders and a dress shirt, most of the makeup gone from his face, his hair wet and greasy and tangled. Her heart leapt. He was smiling, genuinely smiling like his plans had gone exactly how he wanted, and he smelled like explosives and smoke.

Her soul filled at the sight of him. Jess had never been in love and she wasn't sure this feeling was exactly that, but it was the only way to describe the reaction she had to him.

This was so the opposite of okay.

"J…"

"Honey, I'm home," he replied dryly.

There was no sense of comfort or happiness to be here with him, as there were with the other men, but Jess could tell he was glad to be back. He looked exhausted but invigorated and mischievously pleased with himself.

"Thank God!" Jess said with a passion she usually would have kept from him.

She hugged him around his waist, making him stumble a little and look around, arms hovering over her, bemused by her actions once more.

Jess thought the Joker just didn't understand girls.

"Come with me," the Joker muttered, shoving her off after a few moments.

He really didn't like displays of tenderness, but Jess thought he should just get used to them. If he was really so in tune with the human psyche as he said he was, he should know that someone in her position would start to feel actual emotions towards him.

Instead of telling him this, Jess grabbed his hand as he started to walk off down the halls. He made no effort to hold her hand back, but he didn't shake out of her grasp. If anything, he looked a little resigned.

Jess didn't let his lack of feeling towards her bother her. He'd said enough to let her know he didn't think she was worthless. For now, that was okay. She was sure in the future she'd want more from him, and maybe she'd get more, but for now it was fine like it was. At least she got any part of him.

He had pulled her inside of the greenroom and locked the door in a matter of moments. Jess stared at him for a few seconds, trying to decide what kind of mood he was in.

Giddy, first and foremost, that was easy to see, but there was something darker in his eyes as well. He was pleased at the success of the night, pleased that he had done what he'd done and gotten away, but there was also something, some thought, that was plaguing him.

"Too bad you missed out on the after party, Jesster," was the first thing he said.

Jess smiled and leaned back against the door, watching as he paced the room, ran a hand through his wet, stringy hair, and grabbed a bottle of Vodka, tilting it against his mouth to take a large swig.

"I'm actually sort of glad I did miss out," Jess said honestly. "Can you imagine me in jail? I wouldn't have been able to keep it together for more than a few minutes."

The Joker turned to look at her as though confused, hunching his shoulders, craning his neck towards her to scrutinize her face further.

"You think so?" he asked, his mouth twitching before he looked away, giggling.

Jess frowned, not sure whether or not he was making fun of her.

"You sure missed one hell of a party, though," he went on. "Just… explosive." He giggled at whatever little joke was floating around in his skull.

Jess took the bait.

"What exactly happened?"

The Joker turned to stare at her, smiling, before he sat down on the couch. He made no request that she join him, but Jess left her spot by the door in any case and sat down next to him.

"We were, uh… escorted to the MCU." The Joker wheezed a laugh. "Threats were made, mostly against the boys and, uh, yours truly. I was taken to the interrogation room," he laughed again, "to wait for the commissioner."

"Who's that?"

"Turns out, we didn't kill the Batman's personal little buddy after all…" he replied, his tone carrying the hints of danger. Jess leaned away from him warily, but after a moment, when he didn't make a move against her, she relaxed. "Slight miscalculation, but…" He shrugged.

"Gordon's the new police commissioner?" Jess asked, laughing slightly.

Well. Good for him.

She'd never say that aloud of course. She'd been charmed by Gordon's fatherly nature but if the Joker knew of her affection for him, however slight, she couldn't see it ending well.

"That's not the point of the story," the Joker said impatiently. "It's about who came along after Commissioner Gordon."

Jess gasped, immediately guessing but not quite believing it.

"The Batman?" she whispered.

The Joker grinned and nodded.

Suddenly, a cold dread washed over Jess as she looked at the man next to her, really examining him for the first time this evening. He was bruised and bashed and the fresh cuts still dripped blood. She could see a place on stomach where scarlet had seeped through his shirt and his right hand looked stiff and swollen. There was an enormous bruise forming along his brow line, barely concealed by the makeup, and a cut on his head. She could see dried blood in his hair.

"What'd he do to you?" Jess whispered, scooting closer to try to inspect him, wanting to sooth his burns and wipe away the blood and bandage the cuts.

He wasn't having it, however. As soon as she reached for him he grabbed her wrists and threw them aside before standing up, ignoring the question.

"That's right, Jesster," he said, grinning. "The Batman paid me a little visit. We talked, had coffee… I sent him on a little goose chase… We'll have to see how that ended up in the morning…"

He had started to revert to simply talking to himself, never mind telling her the rest of the events.

Jess found she didn't care. Relief was giving way to abrupt anger. She wasn't sure who she felt it for—Batman, the Joker, Billy—but it was there and it was strong.

"You put yourself in a lot of danger tonight," she said quietly.

The Joker turned to look at her suddenly, eyebrows raised as though he'd forgotten she was there.

"Hm?"

"I just mean…" Jess took a deep breath and looked down, not sure that it was smart for her to be feeling so mad. She couldn't help it, however. When next she raised her head to look at him, her eyes were glistening with new tears and her eyebrows were furrowed. "You just put yourself right in the way of everything, don't you?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Jesster," the Joker replied. "You would be the one doing that. Constantly."

Jess stood up, fury growing.

"I'm not the one who screamed at a man on a motorcycle to hit and kill me!"

The Joker sighed.

"Don't you get it yet, Jesster?" he asked.

Jess shook her head.

"No," she said. "No, somehow I don't understand your death wish."

The Joker was laughing at her by this time, howls of mirth that echoed around the greenroom. Jess clenched her hands into fists, feeling hot and cold at once.

"It's not a death wish!" the Joker exclaimed in broken laughter. He took a deep breath and managed to calm himself a little. "See, the Batman has this rule. One. Single. Rule. And if he kills me…" the Joker's voice jumped an octave as he giggled, "he'll be breaking his one rule. Now, I have to see that happen, Jesster. I really have to."

"No!" Jess said. "You're not gonna go chasing death!"

"That's not what this is about…" The Joker closed his eyes, starting to get irritated with her lack of understanding. "It's about breaking him."

"You think I care?!" Jess cried, anger mounting as more tears rolled down her face. Her heart was plummeting more than she cared to admit at the thought of the Joker's death. She knew she couldn't see that happen. "Screw the Batman, J! I don't give a shit whether he's broken or whole! I just don't want to see… I just…" Jess shook her head, fighting the tears. "I don't care about him!"

"Oh, you might not," the Joker said quietly, "but, y'know, I do. And none of your little…" he toyed with the invisible word in the air in front of him, "opinions are gonna make me feel different."

That was too much. How could he care so little how she felt? How could he possibly think his actions were okay?

"You almost got yourself killed tonight, you bastard!" Jess screamed at him. She started to sob, much harder than she'd been crying before. "I almost lost you tonight, J! What would I have done if I had lost you?!"

"That, uh… That wouldn't exactly have been my problem, would it, Jesster?"

Jess's eyes locked onto his as he said it, and she saw something there that made her fly past the breaking point: Amusement.

More than amusement: The unbridled desire to laugh.

More than that: Satisfaction, like she was reacting just as he wanted her to.

At that point, white hot rage boiled through Jess's veins and she let out a scream of some animalistic fury, a sound she'd certainly never heard escape her own throat. Before she really knew what she was doing, she'd attacked him, ripping into him, clawing and slapping and punching and kicking with a ferocity she hadn't before known she possessed.

He started off laughing, his giggles of amusement rising past her screams of anger. Tears flooded her red-edged eyes and she couldn't see, could only hear his giggles and feel the connection of each assault she launched. She conveniently forgot about any wounds he might be harboring; he deserved every slap and scrape he received from her.

It was when a hard punch connected with his jaw that his laughter faded. Suddenly, he was no longer entertained. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her roughly away with a snarl, but Jess was not to be deterred this time. She raced at him immediately, aiming another swing at his now furious face, her hand formed into a claw so that her long nails might leave marks on his skin.

He caught her wrist in one strong hand and, using her own momentum against her, swung her around so that she was facing away from him. She yelled out in pain as he violently twisted her arm behind her back and wrenched her against him. Their bodies connected solidly, her shoulder blades against his chest, and Jess continued to try to pull away, screaming nonsensical insults at him, trying to convey just how much she, at this moment, despised him and everything he stood for.

Then, all of a sudden and definitely without her expectation, Jess felt the Joker rip down the zipper of her dress. The folds of fabric parted and she shivered as a cool breeze crossed over her now exposed back. She screech in anger and attempted once again to pull away from him, unable to believe that had just happened, but the hand that was not still holding tightly to her arm flew up suddenly and roughly cupped her chin, forcing her to turn her head to the side so that, when he leaned forward, their lips met roughly.

Jess struggled to pull away, tried to scream at him, slap him, do something, but every time she got close, he simply silenced her with his mouth again.

He was rough, hot, demanding, and his fingers were leaving bruises on her face while his tongue did indecent things to her mouth. After a moment, Jess found herself kissing him back, the fire in her only increasing the passion of their embrace. She'd never been so angry with someone in her entire life.

She'd also never been so turned on by someone.

When he felt her start to move her lips in time with his, his hands fell away from her wrist and chin and ran down to slide along the skin of her back, raising goose bumps. He grabbed her hips from inside the unzipped dress and pulled her roughly back against him again before doing what he could to remove the rest of her costume.

When had she given up this fight?

For the life of her, Jess had no recollection of doing so.

They made their way to the couch, though Jess wasn't sure how it had been accomplished. She felt the rough fabric of it against her bare frame as he pushed her down to sit on it and leaned over her above it. His mouth hardly left hers, pausing only at intervals to inhale huge gasps of breath when she did something he liked.

Jess pushed down his suspender straps and opened her eyes to look at the man she was kissing, the man whose hands were running all over her body, without pattern or prejudice, exploring every single inch of her. Faded white greasepaint, smeared black around his eyes, a too-red mouth, green hair…

On paper, it never sounded attractive, but Jess pushed a hand through his curling, off-colored locks, thinking that she couldn't imagine wanting to do this with anyone else. Ever again.

She'd never felt this way about any guy she'd been with.

The Joker's hands were impatient, shaking but somehow very sure, pushing away any scrap of clothing he felt got in the way. Jess decided his own undress needed to catch up and pulled up on his shirt, freeing it from the confines of his waistband and slowly unbuttoning the buttons. He reached up to help with rapidly quivering hands.

"In a hurry?" Jess asked, her voice rough and unsteady.

The Joker didn't respond. He simply pushed her hard to the side so that she was lying down lengthwise on the sofa and settled on top of her, resuming his kissing and caressing.

There was no tenderness where there might have been, but he touched her with a strange reverence, as though secretly wanting to dwell in every part of her. Jess moaned loudly as his hands, streaks of fire, swept along her, feeling and molding and possessing.

There was no thought after that, no words and certainly no rationality. She was swept up in his movement and being, fire feeding fire, like attracting like. Jess was caught in a world of darkness and passion and lust and flame and she only felt the world growing around her, hoping it would never stop.

They didn't lie or fight or tease. There was no desire to outdo the other, no questions of whether or not it was right or requests for better treatment. Everything that happened was true and raw.

He was pushy, needy, demanding and rough. There was no consideration for her, but there also seemed to be no consideration for him. It was as if he was simply acting, doing what he wanted to do and letting her do as she pleased as well.

Independent action, yet when the movements complimented each other the result was explosive.

His voice, when he spoke, was hushed, cracked, shaking with exhilaration. He only said bits of words, parts of phrases meant to inspire responses on her part, things like "Just… that…" "Perfect…" "Move…" "Jesus Christ… Right… Jess…"

She didn't hear him call her Jesster. Not once.

His mouth replaced his hands along her body. Jess wondered vaguely where she'd find smears of paint tomorrow but she was caught up in examining him, his now bare torso.

He was better than she'd expected, somehow: more definition, more build, yet still thin and lithe as a jaguar. His skin was peppered with scars, cuts, knicks and burns, more burns than she could have thought, shiny and smooth to the touch.

Jess had been right earlier; there was a fresh cut right along his hipbone, no longer bleeding but still painful looking. When her hand brushed across it, grasping at his hips as their bodies collided, he let out a groan of complaint but, ever contrary, reached down and forced her palm right over it, making her press the wound and cause him pain.

He seemed to like it, though. It certainly spurred him on. His pace quickened, decisions made and actions carried out before Jess had time to process them.

She always seemed to be half a step behind him, always wondering at what he did and how he'd come up with it. None of what he did was done for her benefit but Jess found, if every time was going to be like this, she could definitely live with that.

As it was, he was incredible.

His hands knew what to do, and where. Jess had thought multiple times how good he was, wondered how often he did this before she'd come along. She was starting to think, however, that it had been a long time for him, the way he gasped and grunted and clenched his teeth when she so much as touched him.

She loved to watch him. Her eyes flew open at every possible moment, just to see how his face looked.

His makeup was swiftly being removed by sweat and friction and when he looked down at her she could see the man beneath the clown, could only find human in his open mouth and intense eyes.

She'd never seen emotion register on his face like she did tonight. Be it examining her with a look of wonder mixed with self-conceit--as though he was just proud of himself--or gazing, starry eyed, at the wall opposite, mouth moving while his body did, to form words but never make a sound.

She loved that, with a mere flick of her fingers or wriggle of her hips, she could make him groan, a deep, throaty, animal sound, sexier than she could find words for. It was a power she'd never weilded before, over the Joker himself.

At one point, they were standing--though Jess didn't remember when they'd assumed the position--and she'd done something to make his already shaky legs buckle. She fell with him, holding him, proud of herself even as his rough hands struggled to find control over her instead.

Truly, she was bringing a god to his knees.

Every sense was assaulted by him, every nerve hit and thought destroyed. Time rushed on in a blaze of sweat and fire and his constant breath, of his lips and teeth and tongue and body; pushing, pulling, attracting and repulsing, never the same but achingly familiar. She was drowning in him, burning in him, hoping she'd never escape, knowing she wouldn't.

He made her his, laid claim to something he'd wanted for so long and she, in her way, did the same.

They altered each other permanently and found it only increased appeal.

They were exactly the same, one person.

Jess wondered how she'd ever thought she could fight it.

When the final shuddering wave had passed, when their bodies hummed with pleasant energy and the storm subsided, they fell against each other to rest.

They'd tumbled to the ground at some point, and a blanket was tangled between them, but no effort was made to fix a bed. He held her close, almost painfully close, and stared silently up at the ceiling. Jess didn't have the energy to ask what he was thinking and they both preferred it that way.

She relaxed against him, loving him, loving the feel of his warm skin against hers.

There on the ground, the Joker's arm draped over her, more content and more tired than she'd been in a long time, Jess drifted off to sleep.

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