Hey there! I am soooo sorry this took so long (I'm always saying that, I know, but it doesn't change the fact that I am) but I have a really good excuse.

College.

Yes. College. Moving in and packing up and registering and getting accustomed... Left me with NO time. So I hope I satisfied well enough last chap to earn a LITTLE of your forgiveness...

Having said that, I'm glad you all like it!! GREAT JOB with the challenge!! You made 400 reviews seem easy. I really really really appreciate those of you who take time to let me know how you feel. In fact, I really really appreciate you just for reading! Thank you so much.

I hope you like this. The end is coming upon us swiftly and I plan to leave you satisfied but begging for more... ;)

Love you all!!

When Jess woke up, the first thing she noted was that she was naked.

The second was that she was alone, cold, and had apparently been sleeping on the ground.

She sat up, holding the threadbare blanket she was entangled in to her chest, and looked blearily around. She hadn't been moved from where she'd fallen asleep with him in the greenroom; indeed, she hadn't even been moved up to the couch. Jess groaned and stretched. Her back ached horribly, probably from sleeping on the hard ground.

Jess smiled. She was sure the incredible sex last night hadn't helped, either.

Just the thought of what had happened only hours ago made her flush and grin like an idiot. It had been so perfect, so completely him: not in the least tender but still intensely exciting and, most of all, satisfying. Hot. Crazy. Wild. Extreme. Rough. Passionate.

Yes, sex with the Joker certainly mirrored the Joker himself.

Jess closed her eyes and took a deep breath, just to force herself to indulge in all of her senses on this most perfect of afternoons (it was two p.m. by the clock on the microwave in the corner). It smelled thick and heavy in here, like hot breath and ashes and, well, sex. The blanket she held, she noticed for the first time, was damp with sweat and the room at large was all but sweltering. He hadn't opened a window or door to let a clearing breeze in.

It was the fourth or fifth time she'd thought about him since she'd woken up, but it was only now that she thought to wonder where he was.

He wasn't in the greenroom, she saw, looking around, though that was hardly surprising. She hadn't really expected him to wait for her to wake up. Jess doubted whether he'd kept still for long after she'd lost consciousness, much less fallen asleep himself—although, she had to admit sleeping with the Joker was an attractive idea, if only for the sweetness it would imply. Of course he wouldn't give that to her. No, he'd probably disentangled himself from her shortly after he'd heard her breathing go steady and got up to pace around the room, muttering to himself. He'd probably even stared at her sleeping form with furrowed eyebrows, some part of his broken psyche wondering if he should kill her after all.

But he'd let her sleep, which, in and of itself, made Jess smile.

Articles of clothing, now that Jess looked, were scattered around the room, further from the couch or where she'd woken up than she could have thought possible. She caught sight of her dress, balled up on the windowsill, and wondered how the hell it had gotten there.

Truth be told, the more she thought about last night, the less she could remember, at least before she'd gone into the greenroom. She could only recall scattered bits and pieces from the truck chase, all the while knowing how the story went, and coming back to the theater was a haze of pot and ecstasy and whatever.

Jess looked down at her right arm, on the inner elbow.

Great. Her first track mark. Just peachy.

She could have punched herself at that moment. How could she have been so utterly stupid?! Had she not sobered up before the Joker came home, if she'd had sex with him while she was high, she would never have been able to forgive herself.

Thank God she remembered that part of last night. Every single searing second.

Jess glanced down at her body and smiled when she saw the streaks of his greasepaint transferred there, scattered from her shoulders to her inner thighs.

Was it possible to be more satisfied?

Jess stood up, her injured shoulder and back complaining as she did so, and stretched tentatively, wrapping the blanket around herself. Getting back into her dirty, stained and ripped dress did not seem appealing, but what could she possibly do? Go out into the halls wrapped only in a thin, moth eaten blanket?

That just seemed in bad taste. Most of the men were already upset over her relationship with the Joker, and practically showing off that she had slept with him would only raise conflict and lower their respect for her.

Jess blanched suddenly as she started to pull the dress up over her hips.

Billy.

Oh God, Billy could never find out about this. He'd never forgive her, and he'd go after the Joker himself, which meant no one else could know, either.

It felt like high school all over again; keeping details of one's relationships secret just to avoid drama seemed a little childish. But it was for the best.

Jess reached back and zipped up her dress, then grabbed the rest of her clothes as quickly as possible and, smoothing down her tousled hair, walked out into the halls.

There was a group of men out there.

Jess sighed.

Of course there was.

They spotted her before she had the chance to sprint in the opposite direction and called "Jesster!" in voices that suggested that they were blissfully unaware of her incredible nighttime escapades.

"Hey guys," she said, turning to face them, startled at how hoarse and tired her voice sounded.

There were five or six standing there, among them Keith, Andrew and—oh, God, please, no—Billy.

He looked no happier to see her today than he had yesterday, and made eye contact only with the floor as she approached them, his sour expression contrasting the amiable smiles the rest of the guys wore. Jess's spirits lifted only slightly when she noticed the lack of suspicion from any of the men.

"How are you feeling on this fine Saturday afternoon?" Keith asked her graciously as she was folded into their circle. She cast a wary glance at Billy, but he remained sulkily silent.

"Great!" she said, surprised to find it was true. She ached, but she felt awesome. "A little tired from last night," she cringed inwardly, hoping they assumed she only meant the truck chase, "but otherwise, I feel fantastic. I need a shower…"

"We all need one," Drew said conversationally. "We just came back from a job with the boss, talkin' with the Russian guys. Getting their loyalty." He laughed. "It wasn't easy, but we made one hell of an impression. We're filthy. As it is, the guy's locker room is completely full. We were just weighing the pros and cons of encroaching on your privacy and using the girl's…"

"What were you doing in the greenroom, Jess?" Billy asked suddenly, interrupting Drew's sentence. He was unexpectedly scrutinizing her from head to toe, pure skepticism in his eyes, coupled with a sort of nastiness she'd never seen in him before.

As it was, the question threw her completely off guard and before she could help herself, she was beet red and stuttering "uh… um… uh…"

Smooth, Jess. Very smooth.

"Nothing," she finally got out. "Just seeing if… you know… if J was in."

"Oh yeah?" Billy said, the model of incredulity. "Didn't even brush your hair or change? You just go straight to the Joker when you wake up?" He looked down to the bundle of her undergarments she held in her arms—she had simply thrown the dress on, assuming she wouldn't be stopped on the way to her room. "Carrying around your clothes, too. Does he have a secret washing machine in there?"

He was just being mean now and Jess was looking like the bad guy, having been caught in a lie. She glared at Billy, amazed at what jealousy had done to him.

She suddenly got very, very angry.

"You wanna know what I was doing in there?" Jess said, leaning forward, a look of pure spite on her face.

"Yeah, Jesster," Billy spat. "Tell us all about it."

Jess glanced around. The rest of the men looked stunned at how Billy was speaking, and increasingly uncomfortable by the second. Keith couldn't make eye contact and Austin looked like he wanted to fade away into the shadows.

"Fine," she snapped back. "It's not going to be a secret for long, not with what you're insinuating. And I guess the rumors you'll spread would be worse than the truth, in any case. So here it is, Billy. Straight from my lips to your ears." Jess straightened up, looked right into Billy's eyes, and smiled. "I slept with the Joker," she said, "and, knowing what I know now, I'd choose him over you any day."

Something snapped in him then; she watched it happen. He had lowered his eyes to the ground during her speech, almost passively, but as her last syllable escaped her lips, his eyes flicked up to stare into hers, filled with such an animal rage that she actually flinched away for a second.

But then he was on her, his actions so swift and violent she was actually reminded of the Joker for a moment. His good hand, the one that wasn't still in the sling, had closed around her throat and he'd driven her back into the wall, eyes burning with a hateful fire.

The other men started to talk then, in raised voices, telling him to cut it out, back off and leave her the hell alone. They were hesitant to raise a hand against him however, even in defense of Jess, because Billy was well-liked and not one of them wanted to choose sides here.

Billy was ignoring them. He pinned Jess against the wall with all his weight and put his face right up against hers, obviously past the point of caring whether or not he did harm. Jess stared at him, angry and betrayed, as he made eye contact and spoke:

"How's this?" His grip tightened on her throat and she struggled against him to no avail. "Is this the kind of thing you like? You want your man to be all rough and angry? You want him to have no respect for you?" He pushed her back into the wall and her head smacked against it, making her eyes water. "Well, here it is, Jesster. Like me better now?"

There was not a speck of warmth in his eyes, and had it not been for the fact that she knew the other men would not let Billy hurt her—even now she still couldn't quite believe she had to be worried about Billy hurting her—she would have been seriously afraid. She never had any idea he had this kind of rage in him.

It pissed her off, but it also made her sorry. She wished she could have kept it so that she never saw this side of him.

"No," she said, mustering all the strength she could and thinking of the only thing she knew would really get to him. "Let's face it, you just can't pull it off the way J can."

Billy growled—yes, Billy growled—and took his hand away from her throat.

It happened really fast. One second, Jess was taking a deep breath and regaining oxygen. Then next, she was on the ground, her face red and hurting, and the men were on Billy, wrestling him to the floor.

Jess stood up, such an intense anger coursing through her that she could hardly even feel the spot on her face where Billy had hit her. She looked down at the heap of men atop the struggling Billy and sneered. The fury was so consuming that there was no room for sadness in her heart that their friendship was ending like this, though she knew there would be later. Instead, when given the opportunity, Jess aimed a kick at Billy's gut, knocking the wind from him.

The men containing Billy roared at her to just back away, be the bigger person here, and Jess did take a step back from the gasping man on the ground.

"You're nothing compared to him," she said quietly, "and you never will be." She started to turn away, but found more words bubbling up from her throat. "You were wrong, though," she said. "He respects me. In his way, he respects me. And that's the difference between you and him. You could never understand the way he thinks about me, much less think that way yourself. That's what I like about him, Billy. He looks at me in a way no one else has ever looked at me before. You'll never look at me that way."

She turned and stomped off, needing more than anything a cleansing shower. She'd never before felt such an odd mix of pride, victory, sadness, anger and regret.

But the question was, if given the chance to do it all over, would she change anything?

Jess stayed in the shower for a long time, refusing to allow Billy to ruin last night for her. Now that she was alone, she was able to reflect on what a strong experience it had been. She felt she'd reached the Joker last night at a level that she'd never expected she would reach. She saw into him as far as she ever would, and at times she was sure he'd let himself tell her just how much she meant to him, even if he never meant to. It was rewarding, oddly enough.

Washing herself just seemed to get better every time she did it, here in Gotham at least. The dirt and sweat from yesterday swirled sluggishly down the drain, coupled with bright splashes of greasepaint in red and white. Jess relished having to scrub off some of the paint marks the Joker had left on her, each one bringing back a certain memory of a kiss or a bite, which brought back more memories of his strong, scorching hands and the powerful solidity of his body. It was incredible how thoughts of him overrode her, uprooted all the pain she was feeling and burned it away. Billy was once again an afterthought, one she only dwelled upon when she felt the tender skin around her neck where he'd tried to choke her or her swelling cheekbone, a souvenir from his slap.

The Joker never touched her face to leave marks, she realized. It was as if he was protecting the part of her that really identified who she was. Billy had had no such restraint, which only went to prove that, if Billy was less restrained than the Joker, her boss had a lot more sanity about him than he wanted to show.

He calculated the marks on her body. Billy simply acted in anger.

Over the rush of water, Jess heard the door to the locker room slam open and she quickly rinsed the soap from her hair, wondering if one of the men had simply decided to use this shower instead of waiting for the others to finish in the men's bathroom.

"Hey, I'm still in here!" she called, making sure the curtain was fully pulled to block the stall. No reply came, but she heard someone moving about out there. Sighing, Jess shut off the water and reached out to grab the towel she'd hung on the wall, wrapping it firmly around herself.

"Will you get out of here until I'm in at least a robe?" she asked loudly, once again receiving no reply. She groaned and threw the curtain open, stepping out to confront the interloper head on.

"If you're here to ask about Billy, you're wasting your ti--"

The Joker leaned silently against a sink, watching her come from her stall with dark eyes. The rest of Jess's words faded into thin air.

He'd cleaned up, too, which was sort of strange to her. He was still dressed in his dirty purple suit but his hair looked, if not freshly washed, at least less greasy than it had last night, and his makeup was reapplied rather neatly. His mouth, however, was set and grim and angry, and his hands shook as he pulled one through his hair and flashed her a vicious grin. Suddenly worried about what his mood entailed, Jess regarded him warily.

"Oh, sorry J," she said. "I didn't know it was you."

"Rude of me not to knock," he replied, voice carefully, dangerously soft. "Just came to see if the, uh, word about town was true." His eyes flicked over her throat and face and he straightened up, slowly walking towards her, his hands waving almost casually to emphasize his words. "Not hard to see, though, that it is."

Jess felt her cheekbone, freshly bruising, and decided she was mad enough at Billy not to lie for him.

"Isn't it usually?" she said, not without bitterness. "Those guys really need to stop talking about me."

The Joker was at her in a second, grabbing her chin roughly to examine the damage Billy had done, fingers flicking at her throat, brushing her wet hair away to really look. He leaned back after a moment and gave her what could only be described as that look.

"Am I really wasting my time here, Jesster?" he said.

"No," she whispered. The heat in the bathroom, coupled with the fact that she was covered only in a towel and very, very close to him, was making it hard to think clearly. She didn't want to talk, especially not about Billy. She wanted the Joker to make it go away.

Subtly, almost subconsciously, Jess sidled closer to him.

As always, this did not escape his notice. Managing a half-smile, he backed away a little, just to be cruel. Just for the hell of it.

"What'd you say this time? Hm?" he asked, pinching her bruised cheek. Jess flinched away, flushing simultaneously, not wanting to admit to defending him, much less telling him she'd called him better than Billy. Of course, she didn't know why it bothered her so much. She'd recently had sex with the man. He had to know her opinion of him was relatively high.

It was such an odd dynamic. She'd never experienced something like it before.

"He was just ready to fight," she told him instead. "It's been a long while coming." The Joker's face grew grim again.

"A long while coming?" he asked, looking as though he simply didn't believe a word of it. "Not much of a defense... You're always defending him, Jesster. It gets so boring."

"I don't mean to…"

"Of course you do, Jesster," he said. "Of course you do. Y'see, that's something I like about you. You're always so…" he toyed with an invisible word in the air, looking up to the ceiling and running his tongue along his teeth behind his lips, "…purposeful. You know what you do. Why not just… stop?"

"J, I'm angry with him. I'm not…"

"Oh, now, Jesster… You're not even trying…"

"Fine!" Jess snapped, irritated at his teasing. "I'm pissed! He fucking hit me in the face. He's been a complete jerk just because he's jealous of you and…"

The Joker was laughing now, apparently delighted at the reaction he had received. Or perhaps he had thought of his own private joke. In another moment, however, his face had darkened again. He looked down to the ground, eyes dangerous.

"… shouldn't have touched…" he said to himself. Jess suddenly understood.

"So you can hit me, but he can't?" she asked before she could stop Joker's answer, however, was simple.

"Yeah…?" he said, as though that was evident. As though she should have known the answer already. And she supposed she did.

"Right," she said. "The property thing." The Joker looked satisfied.

"Oh, by the way, Jesster," he said, pointing at her, "you oughta stop bringing so much attention to yourself. It isn't, uh…" he grinned, "sophisticated."

"I don't mean to…"

"Weren't you listening?" the Joker asked, lunging forward again and grabbing her chin, letting his fingers dig into her cheeks painfully. His gruesome smile was stuck on his face but his eyes betrayed deep irritation. "Hm? I mean, I just got done telling you: You do intend to, Jesster. You do. You really like all this… interest in every little thing you do." He didn't wait for a reply. "Yeah…" he said, bringing a finger to his temple and then pointing back to her. "I can see that."

"You think I'm fighting with Billy for attention?" Jess asked, torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to slap him. The Joker merely raised his eyebrows and worked his jaw, allowing his tongue to flick out and lick the scar on his lower lip, all the while maintaining intense eye contact with her.

"Uh, are you?"

"No!"

"Then why care?"

"Oh Jesus," Jess cried, throwing up her hands. "I don't know! It's hard to lose someone! I don't know what else to do." She regarded him for a moment sulkily. He only watched her, neither seeming moved by her reasoning, nor convinced. "I doubt you'd understand. Anyway, I can't believe you're lecturing me about this, too."

The Joker rolled his eyes and let his jaw go slack for a moment, conveying intense boredom.

"You," he said. "It's not about you. I'm telling you to stay out of the way and let the, uh, grownups deal with this." Jess shook her head.

"And the grownup would be… you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Uh oh, careful Jesster." His fingers dug into her flesh. "Y'know, you have to learn when to just shut up."

She was never sure when they were fighting anymore, or if anything that happened between them could be called a fight. He always seemed to have the one up on her. Her only hope was to limp along beside him and dig at him when she got the chance, but otherwise simply try to avoid conflict. Why could she never avoid conflict?

She didn't want to continue the conversation, not in the slightest, so she tipped forward on her toes and gave him a light kiss. He pulled away for a moment to look down at her towel-covered form, then smiled widely, ghoulishly and ran a hand up her arm, droplets of water clinging to his glove as he swiped them from her skin.

"I'm glad you're seeing this my way," he said and grabbed her around the waist to pull her into him.

The towel was no match for his searching hands as he pushed her backwards, away from the sink and towards the wall. His aim was a bit off and in a moment Jess's shoulder blades were pressed painfully against the corner of plaster where the wall became the shower. The pain was almost delicious, and Jess reveled in it, but soon decided that comfort would be better and grabbed the Joker's arms, turning him full circle and tugging him into the shower. The roles had been reversed momentarily. Jess's body weight kept his against the wall as she kissed him, loving the temporary power she wielded, feeling him under her, kept there with her own strength.

He grimaced, picking up the pace, yet looking down at her with a sort of admiration in his eyes. His jacket was pulled aside and, in the process of pushing his arms out of their sleeves, he had shoved Jess away from him and once more grabbed her in the center of the small stall, trying to regain power. Suddenly feeling playful, perhaps even a little dangerous, and angry every time she thought of Billy, Jess immediately rammed him back. Caught off guard—she'd never done anything resembling that, always allowing him to lead the dance—he stumbled back again, back catching the knob of the shower with considerable force. It wasn't hard to see it would mark, and he had time to look up through his hair at her with fiery eyes before the water started gushing from the shower cap.

They were both soaked instantly by hot, steamy water. Instead of retreating from the stall, however, the Joker seemed to instantly forget that she had pushed him and started to laugh, low and guttural, then pulled her on him again and kissed her roughly. His running greasepaint left streaks across her face as he pulled her closer, ripping off his gloves with an irritated growl.

"Your clothes are getting wet," Jess whispered between kisses, already starting to unbutton his shirt and pull his vest away. This was an understatement. His clothes were veritably soaked already and he couldn't stop shaking with silent laughter as the rest of them came off. Considering how filthy his vestments had become, Jess counted their impromptu shower as a blessing and tossed them directly in the line of water, laughing herself at that almost-motherly action. He seemed not to guess at her motive and continued on in the nature he'd been progressing already.

Soon Jess found herself against the wall again, though how she'd gotten there escaped her, and the room was steadily filling with thick steam. The Joker kept running his lips along her bruised face and neck, cupping her cheeks painfully and paying special attention to any place he felt Billy may have touched.

"This face, it's mine," he said gruffly, licking along her cheekbone. "This body: mine. This little brain," he fumbled his fingers against her hair, "Mine. Mine, mine, mine. You are mine, Jesster. Got it?" His voice broke and Jess moaned her acceptance of the fact. She was his. Hell, she could be Madonna if he wanted. He just had to keep doing that thing he was doing with his hips.

She couldn't help but keep staring at him again, especially as his face paint was eliminated and the man underneath shone through. Every thrust caused shooting sparks of pain up her back and mind-blowing pleasure in equal measure. Perhaps she was addicted to that mix, to punishment and reward together. After all, that nearly defined their relationship. Two opposing sides of each of them, fighting for control: The person opposite the mask, the torture opposite the ecstasy, the hate opposite the love. Times like this were times when all pretenses were thrown away and the qualities managed to coexist and simply be. It was explosive and volatile and beautiful. Jess would never stop wondering whether he sensed it, too. Whether he even thought about it. Whether he considered this "good sex," or if he even considered it at all.

It didn't last as long as the night prior, but in a shower what more could there really be, than a quickie? After both of them had gotten their fill, things became uncomfortable and the Joker, impatient as ever, pushed away from her and bent down to grab his soaked clothes as Jess turned and shut off the shower. By the time she'd looked back to him, he was retreating without a word, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around his hips. Jess snorted. He'd have to walk all the way back to his room like that. Awesome.

The thought of causing him any sort of embarrassment was much more enjoyable than she wanted, but it didn't change the fact that it was hilarious. She started to laugh as he left the bathroom.

Jess dressed quickly and retreated back to her room, really wanting a nap after last night and this morning—or afternoon. Whatever. She collapsed onto her bed and rolled over to sleep.