Okay. I was SO quick this time. Like the Flash or Speedy Gonzales. Seriously. THAT quick.
:)
Before saying anything else, I want to thank my friend and beta, Tamara Evans, SO MUCH. Without her, this chapter would not be alive and this first scene would be about two pages shorter. Trust me. You won't be able to LIVE without what happens her. :) She is a genius and I love her to death.
THANKS, TAM!!
Also, thanks to Tam, I have a few more songs I'd like you to listen to, both by Jack Off Jill (Charming band name, I know.)
First, Fear of Dying- Jack Off Jill
Second, the song that I listened to over and over during writing this, Strawberry Gashes- Jack Off Jill
Perfection. Go listen now.
REVIEW!!! Cuz I've been so good! Your reviews make my long, cold nights shorter and warmer!!!!!! Thanks for reading!
Jess sat up covered in cold sweat and looked around, disoriented, scared, breathing heavily. This was not the prop room and, for a moment, the place in which she'd woken seemed too dark, too rich and, most of all, too familiar to be right.
And then, with a start, she realized where she was.
Jess had woken up in her own bedroom, at home, bathed in the gentle glow of white moonlight through the curtain at the window. Nothing was out of place here. Her posters and clothes and books were exactly where she remembered leaving them, and her bed felt warm and habitual.
Once the comprehension had dawned, Jess let out a heaving sob and fell back against her pillows, which smelt of home, unable to put words to the emotions she was feeling.
She wasn't in Gotham. She was home.
And, from the looks of things, she'd never left.
Jess gasped, filling her lungs and then emptying them with a cry. There was no speck of relief here. She felt no sudden joy to be back in the place she had been raised, knowing her family was close. Instead, she felt only a deep loss.
How had she come to think any of it was real? Beyond that, how had she grown so connected?
And why wasn't she pleased to be home?!
Jess slowly got up, still not quite believing it, and walked out into her hall, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The house was lit and bright. Hearing conversation and movement above her, Jess made her way towards it, up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Her mother and father sat at the table, sipping coffee, speaking in pleasant, mild tones.
"Hello, baby!" her mom greeted.
Jess stood in the doorway, biting her lip, crying steadily while her parents smiled at her.
"We thought you were sleeping," her father announced, taking a sip of his drink. "We saved some for you." He motioned towards the pot of espresso on the counter. Numbly, Jess moved towards it, pouring herself a steaming mug and sitting silently at the table with them.
"Bad dreams?" her mom asked, finally seeming to notice her tears and brushing a long lock of blond hair from her wet cheeks. Jess leaned into the warm touch, realizing how much she had missed them.
The aching loss she felt for Gotham, however, was stronger than any happiness she might have had to be home.
So she only shook her head and looked down at her mug.
"Not a bad dream," she whispered.
Her mother seemed satisfied enough.
"Well, when you want to talk about it, we're here for you," her dad said, squeezing her shoulder gently. The lack of pain there when he did so made Jess shudder and break into tears anew. Even the injuries the Joker had inflicted upon her were better than not having him at all.
"It's nothing," she said. "I'm just feeling kind of sad."
Since when had she ever admitted something like that to them? Dream or not, the whole experience in Gotham had changed her.
"Don't feel sad," her mom replied cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day outside! Look!"
"What?" Jess asked, confused.
She turned around and saw through the sliding glass doors that, indeed, the sun was bright and the sky was cloudless. She frowned, remembering the moonlight coming through her curtains only moments ago. Had she been imagining things in the haze after waking?
"We're so pleased to have you home, sweetie," her father said. "We missed you while you were away."
"Home?" Jess repeated.
"Why you felt you had to stay in that awful place, we'll never know," her mom added, picking at her nails.
Jess regarded them, suddenly suspicious.
Neither of them seemed right. Both were too perfect, too happy and too warm. The sun playing off the lamp shades cast a strange, surreal glow on the scene, and her mom's smile seemed to stretch slightly at the corners, larger than natural, like some human Cheshire cat.
Unnerved by the image, Jess cast her eyes down to her coffee. Under her scrutiny, the brown liquid suddenly started to bubble and boil. Shapes began to writhe in it, like miniature bodies turning together in her cup. They put her in mind of Dante and his Inferno.
Come to that, her misgivings about her surroundings were, themselves, compounded upon by the unpleasant sensation of being trapped, as if in a purgatory or hell. Though compelled to flee, Jess was somehow certain that she would fail should she make an attempt.
There was a rap at the front door, cracking through the silence like thunder, and Jess looked up, startled. In her desperation to investigate what exactly was going on here, why home had changed so much or whether she was only feeling displaced on account of having dreamt of Gotham, she stood up to answer it.
Standing on the front stoop, alive and seemingly well, was Powers Sharp, flashing Jess a brilliant smile.
Before she could overcome shock and register any other emotion, her mother chimed in with a pleasant "Oh, Powers, dear, come on in!"
Powers stumbled towards Jess, a little clumsily, forcing her to abandon any plans of escape as she stepped forward to help keep him on his feet. As her hand made contact with his upper arm, Powers smiled his thanks.
Jess felt her heart warm up a bit. She had missed him so much. Thank God his death had only been within the confines of Gotham.
"Powers, my man, come sit down with us!" her father called jovially, and Jess helped him down the hall, back to the table, seating him in a chair. He seemed weighed down and, while he looked completely well, he was acting tired, a little sick.
"Glad to be here," he mumbled as Jess's mother handed him a mug of coffee.
"Glad to have you!" her father announced, slapping him across the back in a friendly way. The connection of the hand against Powers's skin, however, made a sickening, hollow thump, and Jess thought she heard some rush of liquid released in him, somewhere in his torso. Powers didn't seem hurt, however, so she merely furrowed her eyebrows and tried to examine him silently.
"Drink up," her mom said, and Powers reached forward shakily to take the cup of espresso and bring it to his lips. Upon opening his mouth to take a sip, however, a tidal wave of dark, thick blood and bile sloshed from his mouth, running down his chin and neck.
Jess gasped and jumped up but was detained by her father's warm, wet hand.
"Oh!" her mother exclaimed, laughing and dabbing feebly at Powers's chin with a handkerchief. "Nothing to worry about, dear. Happens to the best of us." She held out the bloody napkin for him to take and continue cleaning himself.
"After all," her father said, his voice low as he squeezed Jess's hand and looked straight at Powers, "you are dead."
Her mother let out a high pitched giggle and her father added to the laughter in his deep baritone. Jess, unsure of what to do, laughed along with them while Powers looked down, grinning abashedly as though he was merely being teased.
Then, suddenly, Powers's grin faded and his hands flew up to his stomach, poking and prodding the skin right around his abdomen. His expression changed to one of panic and his poking grew more and more desperate.
"Dead?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Dead? I'm dead?"
Jess found no humor in this, but her parents laughed even harder, her father bumping his fist against the table, causing the writhing espresso to go flying.
"Oh yeah," her mother howled between guffaws. "You're dead, alright, dear!"
"Dead as a doornail," her father agreed, squeezing Jess's hand, "and Jessica, here, did nothing to stop it!"
Jess whipped around to stare at him, horrified.
"No!" she protested. "No, that's not fair!"
Powers, meanwhile, had stopped searching his stomach and looked up at Jess slowly, deep betrayal in his eyes. Bones creaking and cracking, he started to try and stand, hands braced against the table for support.
"You… killed me?" he asked.
"No!" Jess cried. "No, no, of course not! It was nobody's fault! You were shot! We did everything we could!" Powers's wounded expression remained. "I'm so sorry, Powers," Jess said, tears leaking from her eyes.
His hands came up once again to grope at his stomach, and Jess watched as, slowly, a pool of blood welled up under the shirt, staining his searching fingers. She gasped and backed away, searching his face again to find that he was turning pale, deathly pale. Her mother and father started to laugh once more as Powers quickly deteriorated, skin and hair falling away in large chunks. He took two desperate steps towards her, arms reaching out, before his legs gave way to bone and he collapsed, nothing but a bare skeleton in bloody clothing.
Jess stared in horror at Powers's remains while a strange, whining hum filled the room.
"You won't leave like him, will you?" she heard her father asking her from far away. "You'll stay, won't you?"
Right before she realized she was dreaming, Jess woke up.
"Jesster!"
Someone was shaking her really hard, the fingers gripping into her shoulder calling to life the pain of the stab wound. She groaned, pushing them away and muttering sleepily about knives and how much they hurt when pushed through the skin.
"Shit. Sorry." Whoever it was who had come to wake her up recoiled a few steps and stood silently while Jess rolled over, feeling such immense relief to actually be where she thought she was that she smiled as she opened her eyes to find Keith in the room.
"Hey there," she croaked, unable to stop grinning.
"Hey, princess," Keith greeted, returning her smile. "You always this happy to be woken up?"
"Today I am," Jess conceded. "What's up?"
"Sorry we couldn't let you sleep longer," Keith said. "The boss needs you to help us do some chores."
"Oh yeah?" Jess sat up and pulled her errant hair into a sloppy ponytail. "What kind?"
"I think you'll like this job," announced Blake, strolling brazenly into the room. Jess sighed at the lack of respect the men had for her privacy nowadays. "I mean, apparently you're into explosive, dangerous and all around arousing things… if you know what I'm sayin'…"
"Looks like all of Gotham knows," Jess grumbled, glaring lovingly at Blake.
"Don't flatter yourself there, sweetheart," Blake ribbed. "It ain't front page news. Then again, all of Gotham probably did hear you guys a while ago."
Jess flushed and looked down, fingering her still-damp hair.
"Nice work, by the way," Keith laughed. "With Billy, I mean. He was being a douche, and not just to you. It was pretty cool of you to be so honest. Knocked him down a few pegs."
"Like I said, it was only gonna be a matter of time…"
"You've really squirmed your way into the boss's head," Blake added. "I've been with him all day, doin' stuff. And it's like 'Jesster' this and 'Jesster' that."
"Really?" Jess asked, surprised to find she was delighted.
"Well, not to that extent," said Keith, ever the cool one. "But yeah. He mentioned you once or twice and he was adamant that you were involved in all the stuff we're doing today."
"What are we doing today?" Jess wanted to know.
Blake glanced at Keith. "You wanna tell her the story or should I?"
"You go right ahead," Keith replied, smiling and leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. Jess sat up a little straighter. A story. She loved stories.
"So, this morning, while you were sleeping, the boss got a bunch of us together to go meet with this group of thugs who work for one of Gotham's bosses: the Chechen. They're sort of Russian mafia types, really impressed with big numbers, so most of us were there. Apparently they've been getting pissed at their boss and they're sort of a volatile group anyway, so the Joker decided to meet with them, see if their loyalty could be won over."
"Yeah, Drew said something like that," Jess said. "How'd it go?"
"It was easy," Keith rejoined. "It's not hard to see the boss has already made quite the name for himself. They signed up and they're just waiting for the signal to start the mutiny."
"And we're going to give them that signal, when?"
"Tonight, looks like."
"So what the hell are we doing right now?"
"I'll get to that," Blake said, waving his hand distractedly. "See, last night at the jail, the boss picked up this Chinese guy, Lau, who was holding pretty much all the money from the entire mob so the police wouldn't get to it."
Jess's head started to spin. There were about fifty million too many characters in this little drama.
"Okay…?"
"We have Lau here in the theater," Keith explained. "The boss was right. He talked easy, the little bitch. Not that we didn't have some fun, uh…" he grinned at Blake, " 'gently persuading' him, as your boyfriend put it. But, suffice it to say, it didn't take much convincing before he squealed."
"Spare me the details," Jess entreated, blushing slightly at the sarcastic use of the term "boyfriend." While she did enjoy the implications of the word, she found it off-key in reference to the Joker.
"Yeah, no problem," Keith said. "So, as we speak, a bunch of our guys are picking up the money, half of which we have to split with the Chechen, as per this agreement they worked out when he hired the boss."
"But since the Chechen's gonna lose all his holdings anyway, it's pretty much our money?" Jess said, finding herself a little disappointed at the Joker's greed. She hadn't thought he was about money. Getting Gotham and getting rich were two very separate goals.
"Right," Blake said, grinning broadly. "We're rich, kid."
"Okay," Jess sighed. "But you still haven't told me why this involves me."
"Also last night," Keith began, "Harvey Dent and his girlfriend Rachel Dawes were picked up by two mob cops."
"Rachel was that chick J threw out the window, right?" Jess asked, a little bitterly. She'd never forget how the Joker had called her beautiful. It was odd that it bothered her so much, but it did. "The one with the droopy eyes?"
Keith and Blake exchanged a look.
"Yeah, that one," Blake said. "The boss thinks the Batman was into her. He even entertained notions of Dent being Batman."
Jess laughed.
"That's ridiculous."
"We know that," Keith said. "But the boss? He didn't. Though that theory was quickly dropped when they picked up Dent and Rachel and wired them both to a bunch of tanks of gas, in two separate places."
Jess's pulse sped up.
"What happened?" she asked, fearful she already knew the answer.
"The boss apparently told Batman where both of them were, told him to choose who to save… I don't really know, beyond that. He seemed pretty sure Batman would pick Rachel, but he didn't."
"I think he might've switched up their locations," Keith said, "on purpose."
"Dirty prank to play on someone," Blake said, his attempt at disapproval not entirely convincing.
"Well, this is the Joker we're working with."
"So, I assume Batman rescued Dent, but Rachel wasn't so lucky?" Jess asked, suddenly feeling a little shaky. She'd seen that woman. The Joker had talked to her.
She hated when someone she'd practically met died.
"Right," Keith said, a little grimly. "Rachel Dawes is dead and Dent's in the hospital with pretty severe burn wounds."
"Which is where we come in," Blake said. "This guy named Coleman Reese announced today that he knew who the Batman was and he was going to give away his identity tonight on live TV."
"What?!" Jess exclaimed. "How the hell does he know?"
"No idea, Jess," Keith replied calmly. "But apparently the Joker's not too hot on that idea anymore. He doesn't want to know who Batman is. He wants to keep him around."
Jess sighed and relaxed. Reese could have ruined everything. The Joker's psyche was balanced very precariously as it was. Since first coming up with her theory, Jess had grown surer and surer that knowing the Batman's true face would undo him somehow. Perhaps the Joker, ever perceptive, had picked up on that. Or perhaps he was simply having too much fun with Batman as it was.
"So we have to stop Reese?"
"Right," Blake said, "by blowing up Gotham General, the hospital where Dent was taken."
Jess was shaking her head before he'd finished his sentence.
"No," she said. "Count me out. I am not helping to kill a bunch of innocent people!"
"No worries, Jess," Keith said, smiling and coming over to pat her head. He sat on the end of her cot. "The Joker's gonna announce the explosions in plenty of time for the hospital to evacuate."
"He's gonna say that unless someone…" Blake hesitated momentarily, "stops Reese within an hour, he'll blow up a hospital."
Jess grinned.
"That's my J," she said.
Jess got dressed, as per instruction from Keith via the Joker, in her Jesster outfit, but went light on the makeup. Apparently they were going slightly 'undercover' today.
Undercover, right. As if anyone could manage to avoid unwanted attention dressed in a purple three-piece suit and reeking of gasoline and instability, Jess mused.
She stared at herself in the full length bathroom mirror, smoothing the curves of the fabric against her body. She never got tired of seeing herself in costume, simply because she understood that, when the Joker saw her dressed up, he liked it.
Jess was starting to like whatever the Joker liked, especially in regards to herself. He liked the dark parts of her, and coming to terms with those was easier than fighting them.
Which is why she wouldn't let her dream get to her.
There was no point. It was done. She had slipped into REM sleep, her brain waves went a little nuts, neurons fired, her pons baked up some disturbing images with an emotionally repressed filling, and voila, your personalized nightmare is served.
Her subconscious had formed those images in her head and, like it or not, she hadn't wanted to go home. She didn't want to go home, where everything was slightly dull and nobody really understood. Surely they wouldn't understand her now.
She just wished her parents didn't have to wonder about her. But there was nothing she could do. So why think on it? She was sure doing so would only put her in a dark mood. In fact, if she really picked it apart, Jess was positive she would uncover some pretty sick shit about herself that not even she knew.
Jess laughed, turned and examined her body from a different angle, then marched confidently from the bathroom, jamming her top hat on her head, the contents of which would remain psychoanalysis-free for the time being.
They only brought one van and five people to the hospital, including Jess and the Joker, who wore an average, semi-casual dark grey suit and light green button up shirt, along with a hat to cover his distinctive hair and a scarf, wrapped around the lower half of his face, to cover his scars. He had no makeup on.
Jess climbed into the cab of the van where he sat in the passenger's seat and settled into his lap, quickly pulling down the scarf and kissing his full mouth before Keith opened the driver's side door.
Blake and Jackson, the Joker's obvious favorites, were along for the ride as well, in the back.
The Joker's fingers tightened around her hips, but that was the only clue she had that he wasn't irritated with her choice to sit on him.
Jess was feeling extremely playful and rested today. It felt good.
"Why are you dressed like that, J?" she asked as Keith started the engine. "Something happen to your clothes?" She flashed him a cheeky grin and Keith cast them a sidelong glance.
"Nah, Jesster," the Joker shot back smoothly. "See, I like to, uh, mix up my wardrobe on occasion." He tugged at the hem of her skirt. "I see you're not a fan of variety. Hm? Oughta spice it up…" Jess cast him a sultry look (Yeah, right. Sultry.) and brazenly squeezed his knee, which caused his eyebrows to shoot up in interest.
"I can spice things up," she whispered.
"Oh?" the Joker said. He tilted his head downwards, eyes still focused up at Jess, gazing at her through his eyebrows, and he licked his lips quickly. "Uh, prove it."
Jess laughed.
"I will."
She was relatively sure she heard Keith stifle a gag beside them.
When they arrived at Gotham General it was buzzing with activity, as hospitals are wont to do. No one took any notice of them whatsoever as they parked, grabbed duffle bags loaded with explosives, and headed to four separate entrances.
For once, Jess hadn't been pawned off on one of the men. The Joker had grabbed his bag of tricks, tossed it to her, and said, "Follow me."
Jess hurried after him like an eager puppy dog, careful not to jostle the sack she was carrying too hard. She didn't know how volatile the bombs inside were.
The Joker kept his head down as they walked straight across the parking lot and into Gotham General's main entrance, striding right past the receptionist and into an elevator. The Joker was giggling quietly, extensively amused at how easily he was accepted without his face paint, and Jess couldn't help but laugh, too.
When he noticed her chuckles, he glanced down at her shiftily, almost as if he was nervous, and then hesitantly slid an arm over her shoulder.
Jess relaxed into him, thinking how strange a person he was. Earlier he'd cornered her in a shower and taken her with no questions asked, and now he was anxious about putting an arm around her… As though she'd reject him.
He cleared his throat after a moment. The elevator was very quiet, them being the only two inside.
"Uh… Jesster?" he said.
Jess looked up at him expectantly, wondering what he was about to say. The tone of his voice suggested he was about to relate something of exceptional significance; something secret or deep… perhaps something about his feelings…
"Yeah, J?" Jess asked, breathless at the possibility. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal a bustling hall.
"Ready to blow this joint?" the Joker asked, and erupted into hysterical guffaws.
Jess's hopes fell away and she elbowed him gently in the side as they left the lift.
"Shh…" she entreated. "You'll get us found out."
"Right, right," the Joker mumbled lightly, playing with a button on his jacket. Then, as if he'd forgotten, he said, "Oh. By the way, do you know why we're here, Jesster?"
"To… plant bombs?" Jess whispered as they walked down the corridor, past the nurses' station and various patient rooms.
"No, no, no, no, no," the Joker said quietly, jamming his usually fluttering hands in his pockets. "Why we're here… specifically."
"Oh," Jess said. "No. Why?"
"Harvey Dent is here," the Joker responded, making a sudden sharp left turn into a room at the very end of the hall. "We just passed his room, in fact."
"What?!" Jess exclaimed, excited. "He's here?"
The Joker spun on her, reached out and grabbed her by the cheeks with his large hand, effectively covering her mouth and dragging her into the room.
"You'd be surprised how many people can hear us," he said, his face merely inches from hers. "Don't wanna go, uh, frittering this all away, do you?" His hands jumped in time with his words and Jess shook her head enthusiastically.
"No," she said. "No, J. Sorry."
The Joker let go and spun around, examining the dark, empty room. Jess slowly closed the door behind them.
"Now," he said, once they had been shut in, "where to hide our little bomb?"
Jess immediately started examining the room for an appropriate hiding place, somewhere it wouldn't be found. After considering, and subsequently casting aside, the thought of taping it to the underside of a bed or a machine, she took a step forward and felt her toe skid over something on the ground, slightly lower than the rest of the tiling. Jess looked down to find a drainage grate, a little circle on the ground about five inches in diameter with half inch square holes in it, for draining water or other fluids (gross) from the room.
Curiously, wondering if this would work, she reached into the duffle bag and pulled out one of the bombs. It looked too cliché to be real: three sticks of obviously homemade explosives, probably filled with gasoline or nitroglycerine, and wired to a central device which blinked green, indicating that it was ready to go off with the push of a remote button.
It was thin and relatively compact. Jess was sure it would slide easily into the hole once she removed the grid.
"Hey, J," she whispered, beckoning him from where he'd become distracted playing with a large piece of medical equipment, quietly whispering "Clear!"
He came over to her and looked down at her discovery, then nodded and, quickly and extremely dexterously, bent down and popped up the grating easily with the blade of his knife. Jess looked down the deep hole, biting her lips, sure the bomb would drop and be lost if she simply put it in there. The Joker held out a shaky finger in front of her face, clearly communicating, "Hold on and watch me."
He walked over to the duffle bag and searched in it, past the six or seven other explosives in there, until he found a ball of unassuming brown twine. He held a hand out and Jess handed him the bomb and watched while he fixed the twine around a safe part at the center, holding it out so she could see every so often, silently demonstrating the process to her as though he were a magician doing a trick.
He would raise his eyebrows at her as though to say, "You see this? Are you watching?" hold up his pointed finger, and do some simple movement such as measuring out a piece of string or tying a knot. After a few moments of this, Jess was trying feebly to contain her giggles, amused by his playfulness which, for once, seemed to match hers.
The Joker tied the other end of the twine--attached securely to the bomb--to the grate, dropped the bomb carefully down the hole and watched it dangle, held there by the metal lattice. He then replaced the grill and stood up.
"One down," he said vaguely, and Jess followed him from the room.
They met the boys back at the van nearly an hour later, having spent the whole time running about the hospital on two or three floors, attaching bombs to metal floor drains. Jess loved to watch the Joker when he was like this, working and occupied and not simply bored or planning. He really seemed to love his job and she was amazed at how easily he mixed seriousness, getting things done, with a giddy and infectious sense of play.
As they walked down the halls, he was always stealing things from carts and pocketing them randomly, switching objects from one place to another, upsetting papers and raising his eyebrows suggestively at nurses.
However, surprisingly, they were never once approached or even looked at. The Joker had a way of blending silkily into shadows, standing back with an innocently surprised expression, or disappearing all together around the next corner. Jess had never been more certain that she was watching a master at his trade, operating fully in his element, and her careful observations had earned her more than just a few useful tricks. He was a genius at this and it simultaneously intrigued and aroused her; she fixed her eyes on him.
How had things changed so quickly?
Experts agree, sex changes a relationship, but Jess certainly hadn't anticipated this. She didn't doubt that he was still her authority figure, would still show his anger should she attempt to defy him, would hurt her if he wanted to; but now that they'd slept together—now, she thought, that he was secure in his claim to her—he seemed more at ease to joke with her in that dark way he did. Their relationship had suddenly gotten much more interesting, much more enjoyable and not at all light.
In fact, there was a certain darkness in the way he looked at and touched her. Something about his eyes, about the way his voice dropped and his hands moved, made her think he wanted her now more than ever. He was forever touching her, asserting his claim as though he simply could not get enough of a good thing. And she was most definitely not inclined to object.
The Joker was gluttonous and greedy. He had pride that would embarrass Haman and wrath that could tear a city to pieces. She noticed his envy, and his lust, more often than she noticed their absence. In fact, the only deadly sin that did not make up a large part of the Joker's persona was sloth, though she was sure he was guilty of that, too.
Why, then, did she find him so redeemable, so admirable?
Because he simply was. He was letting himself be, doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, rules be damned. His philosophy, finally evident to Jess, could be put into simple words now: "Life is short. Live like it's your last day. It might well be.
Why allow society's restrictive definitions of what is or isn't 'right,' 'proper,' or 'acceptable' to ruin your fulfillment, your expression, your good time? Did they honestly think most people could make it if they truly played by all the rules?
He'd painted himself on the outside. She saw that now. The clown was who he truly was, the inner J, and the scarred human underneath was merely a face… a face completely inadequate to express what he wanted to say. She admired that. She loved that, probably because he brought that freedom, that self expression and truthfulness, out in her. Jess was growing fonder each day of the person she was becoming, as though in destroying herself she was finding herself. She'd never felt more free, more alive, more sure that life was beautiful and she was going to live it.
That was the thing about the Joker. However dangerous his actions, however much he put himself at risk and didn't care whether or not he survived an outing, he would never claim that living wasn't wonderful, that chaos and anarchy weren't things of beauty. Even tortured as he was, as he had to be, living with a split mind, he loved life. It was odd to think, but he did. The masochist in him allowed him to enjoy his own suffering, and the sadist allowed him to enjoy the suffering of others.
Jess nestled into him as they seated themselves back in the car for the ride back to the theater. Their jobs were done. The bombs were planted safely, they were assured by the others, in places no one would look, even when the Joker called attention to the fact that he was going to blow up a hospital.
Jess stifled a yawn.
"What are we doing now, J?" she asked. The Joker tapped her hips and looked out the window.
"Not, not, not," he muttered to himself, then turned back to her. "Not done for the day yet, Jesster. Still got a lot of work to do."
"Great," Jess said with a grin. "I can't wait."
REVIEW!!! ANY comments, questions, concerns I'd be glad to hear and will get back to you about if you want me to!!!
Also, for God's sake, go to Joker Blogs. They are perfection in a youtube video and they make me smile... REEEEEEAAAAAAALLLLL big. :) I will marry whoever that actor is that is playing the Joker. He does Heath SO well...