Warning: This is a long AN. I'd love for you to read it, but I can't force you… But… Um… Please do it? For me? :-P
I know I've been gone forever, and for that I truly apologize. My creativity was really, really low for a while; I was burned out doing school, moving, making friends, blah, blah, blah, whine, whine, whine, excuse, excuse, excuse…
But I can promise you that the next chapter will not take this long. Mostly because I already have it halfway done. J
Thank you all for sticking with me, and thank you newer readers for picking this up! It's always incredibly lovely when someone reviews for the first time. It is most definitely a highlight of my day. You all really, honestly, have no idea the impact you have on me. Your praise and criticism makes me think deeply and, above all, makes me smile.
We're drawing to a close with this one, ladies (and gentlemen?). Surely you've noticed, the movie is almost over…
But let me just say… This is only the beginning. Bwahahahaha!
I'm not allowed to say any more right now, but you'll hear soon enough.
In other news, the latest Joker Blog made me FREAK OUT. I seriously could not contain myself. Y'all go watch it. Then let me know what you think!!
Again, as always, a loud shout-out to my incredible beta and best friend, Tamara Evans. Lovey, this never would have happened if not for you. Thank you so much for giving me the courage to do what I do in this chapter. You remind me of the babe.
Another shout I'd like to give is to HoistTheColours. Thanks for your discussions and all your sweet words. You are one of the main reasons I am passionate about this piece again. :D
One thing, slightly more serious.
I understand if people have problems with my work. That's totally okay (it's far, far, FAR from perfect) and I welcome criticism. It helps me better myself as a writer. But apparently leaving one negative review on another story on this site gets people seriously angry and causes them to try to punish me for it. I will say that I feel kind of bad for not thinking my actions completely through.
This does not mean I apologize or take anything back, however. Listen, guys, if you're mad about it and want to tell me how awful I am, fine, PM me and I will try to explain to you my motives. No worries. But please do not leave anonymous flames on this story simply because you want to rant at me! At the very least, sign such negative reviews. You wanna say something to me, say it to my face. Because doing otherwise is cowardly and it really does not make me take you at all seriously. In fact, I scoff. I will always listen to your criticism as long as it has ground to back it. Oh, and also, please don't be sarcastic about it because, I warn you, I WILL take it as a compliment. I can't read the difference between sarcasm and seriousness. :P
Ahem. Sorry. I really do love you fans out there. You're really incredible and I am so pleased that you're still hanging in here. I had a serious creative slump that I'm still working out of, but you guys and this story are on my mind nearly every day.
Those of you lurkers, the ones who have been along for the ride but have not reviewed, I'd love to hear from you. Tell me what you like, what you hate, why you read. You can even just give me a review comprised of "!!!" and I will be happy. J Because I really appreciate everyone's input. I truly care about what you have to say. That sounds cheesy, but it's true. I care more than is probably healthy…
I mean, honestly. Hearing from you guys is the reason I'm still writing and posting this (also, this story is like my child…Nearly 300 pages!!) But you readers made it happen and I'm excited to start the end of our journey together.
You are all amazing.
Thank you.
~Immy
Finding the other men was a piece of cake. As soon as she pulled the car around to the back lot, she was able to spot four or five of them, lounging against the bus, chatting casually to each other. Sometimes they'd help someone step on, if a superior pointed the person their way, and this made Jess go cold. They were taking on hostages?!
"What are you doing?" she asked as soon as she parked the ambulance beside them—not as easy a task as it sounded—and left it. Instead of answering, the men simply shrugged at her, as though to say, "What does it look like?" and helped an old lady step onboard. Jess sighed.
Whatever the Joker was planning, there was little she could do about it. So, she leaned against the side of the bus next to Jackson, folded her arms and waited.
As it turned out, Jess didn't have to wait very long before being launched into action. The hour the Joker had allowed for Reese's death was over in a flash and, as Jess sat down in the driver's seat of the bus—now loaded with around fifty prisoners, none of whom had even the slightest inkling about their current predicament (which, if nothing else, added some rather amusing irony to the situation)—a walkie-talkie crackled from the console beside her.
"Uh, this is Alpha Fox to Yellow-hawk. Come in Yellow-hawk." Jess heard a distinct chuckle, cut off as the owner of the other walkie-talkie took his finger off the button mid-laugh.
He was just so amused with himself.
Immediately, like an afterthought, it crackled again. "Uh, over."
Jess stared at it. Besides the patients, their visitors and a few reporters, Jess was the only one in the bus. The other members of the Twenty were outside doing odd jobs and one of them, probably Jackson, had left his radio here.
Just as she was determining whether ignoring the Joker's call or answering it would land the man to whom the device belonged in more trouble, the two-way radio crackled again, making her decision for her.
"Hello? Any time here, Yellow-hawk. We are, uh… in a bit of a hurry…" He hung up, then came back in again, as if suddenly remembering he was trying to follow proper radio etiquette. "Over."
She grabbed the radio from the console and leaned back against the driver's side window, slinging her leg over the armrest.
"Hi there, Alpha Fox," she said, lowering the pitch of her voice to something smooth and provocative, trying to impersonate a phone-sex hotline operator. "Is there anything at all I can do for you?" She had to stifle a giggle before purring, "Over."
It took a few seconds for the Joker to answer.
"What exactly are you doing, Jesster?" But he sounded amused. Jess laughed.
"Someone left the walkie-talkie in here. What should I tell them?"
"Is, uh… is everyone loaded?" the Joker asked.
Jess glanced towards the back of the bus, to where the men were loitering, smoking cigarettes. She jumped up and ordered them to get in.
"They are now," she told the walkie-talkie once the men had loaded themselves and stood with her at the open back door of the bus, surrounded by the rowdy crowd of hostages.
"Where's Dent?" one of the men asked mildly.
"Good, good," the Joker said. "Get ready to drive, Jesster. I'll see you soon. Over and, uh… out."
"Wait!" Jess wailed into the radio. "What do you mean, drive?" But there was no reply. She cast a panicked glance at the five men, all of whom shrugged in turn. "Can someone else take this one?"
The reply was unanimous; each man shook his head.
"The boss charged you with it, Jesster," Jackson said. "Maybe he's got a reason for it."
"No he doesn't!" she said, shaking her head, sounding like a child but not really caring. "I pissed him off in the ambulance and now he's trying to get back at me by making me do something he knows'll make me anxious! I can't drive a bus!"
"Be that as it may," Seth said, "I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm not gonna risk going against the boss's orders. Now you'd better get to your seat because…"
He was suddenly interrupted by an enormous booming explosion from the back end of the building and Jess turned towards it, abandoning all arguments contrary to driving and pushing her way to the front, jumping over outstretched legs cast in plaster, to take a hasty seat behind the wheel.
Her adrenaline was pumping, acid in her veins, and she turned around, straining to see out the back of the vehicle, to where opposite wings of the hospital could now be seen going up in a glorious burst of flames. The hostages were screaming, pointing at the fiery building. She laughed in delight, her knowledge of the hospital's evacuation enough to allow her to find amusement in this.
It had worked. This plan had worked!
"Jess, start the bus," one of the men called from the back, poised to slam the emergency door shut, just waiting for the boss to meet them.
Jess's hand hovered over the ignition key, fixated on the burning building just on the other side of the window, close enough to feel the heat on her skin.
And then there was the Joker, striding from the building holding a comically large remote for the explosives. He skipped down the steps as the hospital crumbled behind him, fireballs leaping into the sky. It was yet another seemingly effortless choreography of chaos and destruction which, Jess now understood, required an incredible amount of time, extensive reconnaissance and painstaking attention to detail in order to execute.
But no one ever said the Joker didn't have a taste for the theatrical.
He continued walking towards the bus, all sweat and triumph and adrenaline and testosterone, and suddenly Jess found herself distracted by the weird sex appeal of him in the nurse's outfit. He was possibly the only man, besides David Bowie, who could actually look sexy in a dress.
There was a pause in the explosions, the cacophony giving way to eerie silence which immediately drew his attention. Confused, the Joker turned around and looked back at the buildings, waiting patiently.
When, after a moment, nothing happened, he raised his arms in a "what the fuck?" gesture, causing Jess to burst into giggles. He then resorted to pushing the remote button feverishly.
"Jess, start the bus!" Jackson called from the back.
Jess was over-stimulated. She frantically reached for the ignition, but again got distracted by a loud booming explosion as the delayed bombs finally detonated.
"Jessica! Start the fucking bus!"
The Joker was hightailing it for the back, and just before he jumped in and slammed the emergency door shut, Jess turned the key and the bus came to life. Gently easing on the gas, the vehicle lurched forward and she began to guide it from the hospital's lot.
The prisoners continued to scream—indeed, they had not stopped—a situation somewhat exacerbated by the sudden appearance of a man generally considered to be a psychotic terrorist, in a dress, topped off with the realization that this was his bus.
Their fucking yelling wasn't helping Jess's already splintered focus, either. It was hard enough to control a huge vehicle. Jess threw off the costume glasses she'd been given and sped up while the men yelled at the prisoners to be quiet or they'd shoot.
It was chaos. She was trying to drive a fucking bus and it was utter pandemonium. The men's threats were not helping, nor was the fact that Jess could hear her own speeding pulse as the blood rushed in her head. Everything was simply adding to the noise.
Finally, Jess could not stand it. She reached up to her left to where the microphone for the bus's PA system hung, grabbed it, and yelled into it, her voice booming throughout the bus.
"If every single one of you does not shut the fuck up right NOW, I swear to God you will all be murdered where you sit!"
It worked. The noise of the hostages cut out instantly and the Joker started giggling quietly, from just behind Jess's right ear.
She turned her head slightly and looked at him, standing there with his hand on the back of her seat. He grinned.
"Don't bother me, J," she said, gritting her teeth as she took a sharp left. "I'm trying to drive…"
"Uh… to where?"
Jess blinked. She hadn't exactly thought of the destination, but leaving the hospital sounded like a good plan at the moment.
"Away."
Her tone was far more nonchalant than her frenzied emotions. She realized then just how good she was getting at conjuring and displaying a situation-appropriate façade, regardless of how she might actually be feeling. She'd never been able to keep a calm face while her heart was beating out of her chest before but she was certainly learning that particular skill with her ever-increasing exposure to the Joker as time went on.
In his world, rapid adaptation was nothing short of a survival skill.
In the end, the Joker directed her across a long bridge into a part of town known colloquially as the Narrows. Jess had heard of it, of course—you didn't live in Gotham city for multiple months without hearing of this region, even if you were holed-up in a theater for the majority of your tenure in the city.
This district was the true underbelly of the city; an area thugs, thieves and hobos chose to make their home. Crime was beyond rampant. Apparently every single mayor and DA since 1964 had promised in his campaign slogan to "clean up the Narrows," but, until the Batman, there had never been an even partially effective reign of order here.
As it was, the superhero's presence helped only slightly. He'd saved many innocent citizens in this district—usually poorer families or cops—during the Fear Toxin scare a few years ago—the one around which the entire plot of the first Nolan Batman movie rotated—but the place was pretty much just as dirty, crime-ridden and unpleasant as it had always been.
As resourceful, relentless and feared as the Batman may have been, there was only so much one man could do (even with his countless civilian impersonators, pitifully equipped and athletically impaired as they were.)
Jess was vaguely surprised that the Joker hadn't chosen to make his home-base in this part of town though, now that she considered it, she supposed it was a little cliché. Almost every dank, poorly lit side street was lined with abandoned warehouses, and the thought of living in a warehouse was horrible.
No one actually lived in warehouses aside from novice crooks wanting to hit the big time (and unlikely to ever do so.)
No. Such places were used when you required a temporary, random, almost assuredly empty space—void of law enforcement but rife with rodents—in which to carry out part of a plan, hold hostages or hide stolen goods. They were rarely used for long and never permanent. Besides, choosing a theater as a home base was pure genius—poetic, in a way—and it had grown on Jess and the Twenty whether they liked it or not.
"Pull in there," the Joker ordered, pointing to a shady, nondescript building in the middle of a long row of equally dingy, unremarkable buildings. His voice was low and slightly hoarse—his focus having clearly returned following the rush of excitement and explosions back at Gotham General—and one long fingered hand rested on Jess's shoulder, using her for balance as she drove.
She loved it when he touched her.
He'd changed into his usual outfit at the back of the bus and, decked out once again in royal purple, he presented his well-known, striking image. The hostages were simply terrified.
Once they were parked in a dark alleyway, the Joker pulled Jess through the front door of the bus and stood with his hands on her hips as the members of the Twenty who had met them got busy unloading the hostages, forcing them—weeping or fighting—into the building.
Jess tried not to look at the captives, deciding she wouldn't interact with them or have anything to do with their escape or demise. It was easier that way, better for everyone. It wasn't as though she truly had a voice here. The Joker was going to do what he was going to do, no matter what she said or how much she disapproved. It was easier to just distance herself from it.
But she felt their eyes inevitably stray towards her as they were herded like cattle through the door—of course they looked at her, she was standing next to the Joker—and the looks she found directed at her when she dared to glance up disturbed her deeply. Never had she been looked at in the way these hostages were regarding her now: a distinct combination of fear, disgust and hate, as though she'd betrayed each and every one of them personally.
She wanted to tell them she hadn't, that it wasn't her fault and that she hadn't been a part of any of it.
But she had been a part—she'd driven the bus, for Christ's sake—and they'd never believe her.
Wasn't this what she wanted, anyway? To be feared, part of this organization, as much an element of the team as any other member of the Twenty…
Wasn't that what she wanted?
Jess turned away from the hostages, a little shaken, and looked up at the Joker who, she realized for the first time, had been watching her.
She settled closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest, the smell of him familiar and wonderful.
Mad or not, this man was her life and he was what she wanted.
The Joker's hands slid down, holding her more tightly to him, laying a silent, incontestable claim. Her mouth found his neck and she kissed it, lips parted, over and over, which made him move in a way that made her think he might be uncomfortable, not sure if he liked the tenderness of the action but taken in by the sexiness.
He didn't stand for it for long, at any rate. Reaching up, he grabbed her face forcefully and led her lips to his, taking her mouth so roughly that Jess knew he'd been waiting to do so for a while. She giggled at the thought, her laugh echoing back at her as he turned her slightly and pushed her into the side of the bus, thinking her gasp of surprise was simply hilarious.
Their kiss turned even wilder and Jess started to take heaving breaths as the Joker's tongue did indecent things inside her mouth. She clutched at his jacket, forgetting the hostages who, by this time, had disappeared inside the building, focusing only on this man she was lucky enough to be kissing.
The Joker's spread fingers tapped and danced their way downwards along her hips, then her outer thighs, one hand sliding between her legs to widen her stance as he pressed against her. Slowly, he inched her skirt up, bunching the fabric against her sides.
Jess's hands swept down his torso, forgetting now that they were even outside, against a school bus, in the Narrows—possibly the least elegant place in the world—with some of the team waiting for them in the warehouse beyond and the rest of the team due to show up at any moment.
She didn't care. The Joker had a way of overriding rational thought and forcing her attention towards something emotional and physical. Was that the way he lived every day? His every ambition seemed to stem from desire—that hot, superseding feeling—and the longing to do whatever he had to do in order to feel good.
Given whatever psychological issues he surely had, feeling good would seem, to him, a feat requiring almost impossible effort. No wonder he did the things he did.
His gloved hands slid under her dress as she hooked her thumbs over his beltline and forced their bodies together, which drew a grunt of surprise and arousal from him, her exact intention.
The Joker's lips dropped down along the side of her face to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites as he went, then even lower, towards her collarbone. The way he was progressing, Jess doubted he would stop making his way down her body anytime soon, and the thought left her breathless, coupled with the fear of someone coming out and catching them in such an intimate position.
He'd just reached her stomach when the sound of a car pulling in on the other side of the bus made him stop, turn his head to listen, and get off his knees to straighten up. Not sparing her another glance, suddenly interested only in the newcomers, the Joker crept around the side of the large vehicle to see who it was.
He disappeared after a moment, obscured by the great yellow hood of the bus, but Jess heard car doors slam and familiar voices.
"…a hell of a time getting here." It was Blake, who'd rendezvoused with the Jaguar.
Jess sighed. Now there was a very slight chance for sex, if a chance at all, and here she was, all flustered and unkempt. She smoothed her dress back into place and decided to simply enter the building.
It was dark inside—as befitted a warehouse—but the few men present had made the best with the limited ambient materials present. Someone had found a switch and a single bulb had been illuminated high up in the rafters, the smattering of dim light it provided hardly doing anything to dispel the shadows.
The hostages had been gathered under this light, huddling close from fear, most of their hands and feet tied together, gags stuffed in their mouths, while the men walked around them slowly, trying to look menacing with guns over their arms. Jess entered and Jackson flashed her a wink and a cheeky grin, which she returned before coming to a halt just in front of the prisoners and regarding them with a face she hoped could convey that she didn't know or care what was going to befall them.
The not-knowing was easy. The not-caring took some work.
A few of them looked up at her, wary and attentive, as though she was going to deliver some villainous speech explaining her evil plan. Jess smiled at the thought and raised her eyebrows at a young woman in the crowd, whose gaze immediately fell to the floor.
And there it was: that feeling of power that Jess had quite grown to love. These people were frightened of her, would do whatever she told them to simply because they were tied up and she was not. She didn't even have a gun! All she had was the fact that she had driven a bus and stood next to the Joker without being murdered.
And yet these people assumed that she was just as dangerous as her surroundings.
Was she? Did the fact that she'd survived this make any difference?
Jess looked back on her time in Gotham. No, she doubted she'd really been the one ensuring her survival. There had always been someone else looking out for her, some pity given or mind changed at the last moment that had allowed her to live another day.
It was getting better, of course. Jess could feel, as her understanding of the way this world worked grew, her life settling into her own hands and the decisions she made actually drawing her farther from death. She'd never really been an integrated whole with her environment, but she could feel that happening, though she remained wary of the plight that becoming too comfortable or cocky might bring.
Often in life, Jess had learned, the perception of control was just that: an illusion which could be shattered on a whim. This was especially true in Gotham—more so with the Joker for company, of this much Jess was certain
Sooner or later, she would be just as dangerous, sure and savvy as any one of the Twenty, perhaps even on par with one of Gotham's bosses. It was only a matter of time and learning.
So, yes, she decided. These people did have something to fear from her. She wished them no harm, but she'd do what she had to if things got bad.
"Wheel it in there!"
Jess started. How long had she been standing there, staring at the group of hostages? The guards didn't look bothered, so it couldn't have been that long…
She'd been doing that more and more often—losing track of her surroundings as she went back off into her head. It almost scared her.
She turned to see what the men were wheeling in, and saw more than one large piece of machinery: a huge fan, a floodlight and…
A camcorder?
Jess tilted her head as the video camera was set up on a tripod and a crowd of men spilled through the door behind her. Apparently the ambulance had shown up shortly after the Jaguar. The rest of the Twenty had arrived.
Maneuvering her way through the men now loitering around, greeting each other amiably, some staring at the hostages, Jess found Blake, the man with all the answers.
That was becoming truer, too, she realized. As the days passed, Blake had somehow been elevated to a position that could almost be called second in command to the Joker. He seemed to know nearly as much about what they were doing as the boss, who tended to charge him with the most important tasks. He'd proven himself a loyal and trustworthy employee, after all, and he was very good at what he did.
"I have some questions," she told him, sidling up alongside him as he pointed towards where the huge fan should go.
Jess stared at it. Why was that here?
"I'll bet you do, princess," Blake laughed, slinging an arm over her shoulder and guiding her across the room to make sure the floodlight had been set up. "Ask away. We've got time."
"Where'd you get a camera?" was the first thing that popped out of her mouth. This was not the shaky hand held recorder the Joker had used a few months ago while interrogating Brain Douglas. This thing was big, official looking.
In answer, Blake pointed towards the hostages, to a man in a black suit with short, graying hair. Jess vaguely recognized him.
"Picked it up with him. That's Mike Engel, from…"
"Gotham Tonight, yeah," Jess said, staring at the shaking newscaster.
"He was covering footage of the blast and, it just so happened, jumped into our bus. Lucky break, huh?" Blake grinned and Jess nodded, sure somehow that it wasn't a lucky break at all.
"The fan and the light?" Jess asked. "What's he planning with them?"
"Oh, now, Jesster," came the Joker's voice—sudden as ever—and Jess looked to her left as he approached them.
Blake immediately took his arm from around her shoulder, allowing the boss to pull her towards him by the waist, giving Blake what could only be described as a dark look. Not necessarily grave, but dark.
"That would ruin the surprise," he continued. "You'll see soon enough." He paused for a moment, examining Blake, running his tongue along his teeth behind his closed lips, before saying, "Oh, uh, Blakey… we need more makeup. Ask Billy Boy if he has any and if he doesn't, find it somewhere else. Mr. Engel needs to be ready for his, uh…" he smacked his lips, "close-up."
Jess found it very hard to keep from laughing at the Joker's brief, almost hidden, dig at Billy, especially given the irony of the fact that the Clown Prince himself was the one decked out in face paint.
Blake's mouth twitched, too, and he nodded and strode away, leaving the Joker to dig his grip suddenly into Jess's arm and spin her to face him.
"Now," he said quietly, pulling her against his body and lowering his head towards hers, "where were we? Hm?"
Jess suddenly found herself weighing the pros and cons of a situation which, before, would have seemed exceedingly simple. Before, she would simply have kissed him, perhaps allowed him to take her to find a dark room or corner and give them both exactly what they wanted.
But she was feeling playful—she had been for the entire day—and she wanted to see just how far she could go before he'd get really annoyed. He'd been remarkably blasé about her teasing as of late; he'd even seemed to have found enjoyment in it. Apart from a growl or two, they'd really been getting along for quite a while.
It was odd, but Jess wanted to test just how much she'd have to do to spark conflict with him. She enjoyed being able to relax around him, but if she knew his limits, she could use them to her advantage.
There was always going to be that battle between them, she knew. He had all the power and she desired more than anything else the chance to be his equal. Sometimes, for brief moments, she got that satisfaction.
This was going to be one of those moments.
"Don't you have work to do?" she asked, her tone boldly impertinent.
She made to turn away, but as soon as she had her back to him Jess felt the Joker's vice-like grip on her hair, pulling her forcibly back to him. She yelped in surprise, hearing the squeak of his leather gloves as he ground his fist into the back of her head and pushed her forward roughly, taking no pains for her comfort. Jess squealed weakly and grabbed his hand, trying to work his tangled fingers from her locks.
The Joker merely ignored her protests and strode them into the darkness near the walls of the warehouse, the towers of dusty boxes casting shadows black enough to conceal them from the men gathered under the lights.
He threw her face-first against the wall, jamming his body hard along her back and twisting one of her arms between their forms. His other hand released her hair and ran slowly down her body as he inhaled slowly through his nose.
Jess whimpered, leaning away from the concrete, but he slammed her quickly back against it, his face pressed close her ear.
"I think…" he whispered, "you need to learn your place. Hm?"
His lips fluttered down her jaw to her neck, kissing her hair, twisting his fingers in it.
"J…" Jess groaned, the air being pushed out of her lungs by the pressure his full weight.
She was starting to get truly scared, the feelings reminiscent of her first dealings with him. He hadn't shown this kind of aggression for quite a while, but she, too, had been relatively complacent as of late.
Apparently, rejection struck a nerve with him.
"Yes?" the Joker hissed in her ear, sucking the lobe briefly into his mouth.
"You're… crushing… me," she gasped, trying to shake out from under him, the words "stuck between a rock and a hard place" echoing in her head.
Panic welled up and she fought harder, twisting her arms futilely against his incredibly stalwart grip. He steadied her, jamming his body against hers with even more pressure, still kissing her neck. Tears started leaking from her eyes, a dam she was trying with all her might to keep from breaking.
"Seriously," Jess wheezed, accidentally letting loose a sob, "I can't… breathe…"
"Oh can't you?" the Joker asked, slamming her once again against concrete. "Then why are you still talking?"
Jess tried to wheeze in a gasp, but fear and panic were mounting. Her head was buzzing from a lack of oxygen and he didn't seem ready to stop. This was her punishment. She was a fool not to have expected it.
Of course, as soon as Jess assumed his plan was to let her faint, he pulled away, turned her around violently and pressed her back against the wall, leaning against her, his hands skittering along her face as he leaned forward, inhaled and gave her a wet kiss on the mouth. Jess was still attempting to recover some brain cells, and her vision went white as soon as oxygen rushed into her lungs, so she was relatively unaware for the first few seconds of his kiss and didn't raise a hand to push him off.
He pulled back smiling, only his eyes showing the extreme rage behind his actions. He shook as he held her, some part of him holding back from being exactly as violent with her as he wished he could be.
Jess knew him better than that though. The man was a ticking bomb. It was only going to be a matter of time before he exploded.
She was suddenly filled with a rage at her reaction to him, at his ability to terrify her.
Who the fuck was he to do that?
She was giving him everything! She did everything with him in mind!
She was possibly the only person on this earth to truly treat him with kindness, to love him, and he treated her like this?!
The dizziness receding, Jess let loose a noise of rage muffled by his persistent mouth and braced her arms against his shoulders, just about to attempt to fight him away. Before she got half a chance, however, he grabbed both her wrists together in one large hand and wrenched her forward, pulling her after him through the darkness of the vast warehouse, to its only back hallway and the room therein.
The space into which she was thrown was as dark as everywhere else, so that Jess could not make out any details of it, but the Joker seemed to know exactly where he was going. This confused Jess for a moment. Had he been here before?
After a second of stumbling through the black room, being dragged like a prisoner, Jess was thrown roughly onto a meager pile of what felt like ratty old pillows and threadbare blankets. The Joker climbed on top of her immediately, hands gripping her hips as he buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply, his open mouth sliding along her skin.
Jess didn't know what had come over him, but it horrified her. Usually, when dealing with these kinds of actions from her, the Joker would punish her back by either showing her exactly how much physical damage he could do or by ignoring her, making her sorry she'd rejected him.
This passionate, rough ride he was instigating here was simply too… frenzied. He was unthinking. She could feel that in his breath.
She didn't think he'd ever stoop to actually raping her, but he was trying to teach her some kind of lesson. She'd set him off and the thing that scared her most was the fact that it was impossible to know just how far he'd take this before he considered her lesson learned.
Jess cried out as his hands searched the skin under her dress, clutching hard enough to leave bruises. While he sucked the skin on her neck into his mouth, one had traveled down to her inner thigh, burning as he squeezed it, making some kind of claim.
Jess kicked out, trying to catch his stomach with a heel, but the hand on her thigh caught her leg around the knee and tugged, pulling her body into a more submissive position, her legs kicking helplessly on either side of him. Jess gasped and pressed her hands against his face, trying to rip him away, but his kissing only became more hysterical.
It was almost as though he was trying to convince her of something, get her to give in. He didn't seem aware that this had gone too far, that she wasn't playing coy or submissive. This wasn't some kind of game.
He didn't seem to understand that she was truly scared.
"J," she cried, her hands tugging at his hair, trying uselessly to roll into a position where she could crawl away from him. "Stop it, J! This…" she gasped as he tried to push her dress forcibly up her torso. "This is not okay!" She could hear the crack in her voice, terror and adrenaline leading her to rip at him and wiggle her way from under him.
"Jesster," the Joker gasped, almost mildly, "you keep squirming like that, this might be over sooner than you'd like."
He could only manage a breathless wheezing laugh, which turned into a moan as her hips collided with his.
"God dammit, J," Jess shrieked. "I'm serious! Get off!"
He laughed like she was kidding.
"I plan to," he said, breaking into a giggle and going right back to trying to undress her.
Finally, Jess managed to hook a foot solidly into his side and push his shoulder back roughly with a hand in the same violent gesture. He fell away with a grunt, landing solidly against the concrete floor. Jess couldn't see his face, whether the expression on it was one of confusion or anger, but she used his momentary distraction to jump up, pull down her dress and race from the room.
She walked fast and silently through the main warehouse, knowing her face was red and sweaty, her hair was a mess and her eyes were still leaking tears.
"Hey Jesster!" someone—she couldn't see who—called amiably, not aware of the state she was in.
She covered her face with a hand and picked up the pace, racing towards the door, ripping it open and escaping to the cool evening air outside.
I would love reviews, even though I don't deserve them for taking so long. Forgive me?
You all are SO awesome.
Seahorses. Forever.