See. I proved it to you. I totally delivered on my promise to post this quickly! Thus, you can reward me with lovely reviews!
Thank you SO much for all your kind words, and, again, just so you know, I will NOT abandon this story. I will see it through to its completion for all of you (and for my own vicarious needs!) I love all you readers.
As always, huge shout out to my absolutely incredible beta, Tamara Evans! I love you, girly! Seriously, guys, you have NO idea how much she does for this story. We'll get into hour long conversations on characterization, and I HIGHLY suggest you go read her fic "Scourge" because it is SO amazing (and I beta it).
Another shout out goes to someone I don't even think reads my story. BCooper's fic "Grave" is one of the best stories on this site. It absolutely blew my mind, and I hope you all go read and review for her because she REALLY inspired me to take this story in a slightly darker direction, as well as inspiring me to do the best I can possibly do as a writer.
And this is where my warning comes in: This story WILL continue to get darker and darker, despite the few chapters we have left. I hope you're all ready for it! :D
I wrote and edited this chapter while listening obsessively to "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga, which is extremely surprising. I know she's a pop star, and I don't listen to pop that much, but this song really impressed me and it ABSOLUTELY works for this story! I love it. AND it references Alfred Hitchcock, which is extremely badass. So, I guess another shout out goes to Lady Gaga. Thank yop, you weird, weird woman.
Review!! I love you all!!
Jess sprinted down the empty road, turning corner after corner simply to distance herself from the place she'd come. She couldn't even feel her lungs burn or her legs pump as the lasting effects of adrenaline surged through her and tears flooded her eyes.
She ran as far as she could before sense caught up with her.
Jess stumbled to a stop in the middle of deserted asphalt, surrounded on all sides by blank, silent, identical warehouses. Staring around helplessly, she draped her arms around her body and hitched, hitched again and started to sob, tears turning into a steady torrential downpour.
Unable to control the sadness and fright now assaulting her system, Jess bent over to rest her hands on her knees, trying to steady herself as harsh wails wracked her body.
She couldn't remember ever being so terrified of him, even back when they'd first met. At the beginning, she hadn't had any idea what to expect from him, was on guard for anything. She'd let that guard drop as their relationship, if that's what it was, progressed—a mistake.
It was surprisingly, horrifyingly painful when he completely shattered the trust she placed in him.
She had put herself in his hands, and he did this to her!
Jess thought back only minutes earlier, to the feeling of being trapped, so innately weak as his fingers grazed her skin and he kissed her feverishly, against her will.
Jess was certain that he hadn't intended to force himself on her; that was hardly the issue. He had likely been operating under the assumption that she was playing an elaborate game of hard-to-get. Nonetheless, she'd been in physical distress, she had yelled for him to stop, and he did not heed her objections. Jess realized that, true to form, the Joker did not respect her physical boundaries at all, after being so comfortable with crossing them in the past when she had permitted and even welcomed the intrusions.
The whole situation made her seethe with anger.
Why hadn't he just quit it?!
She'd thought she'd learned to predict him.
He'd shown her just how dangerous that idea was.
Jess moaned and crumpled to the ground, not caring that she was now effectively seated in the middle of the road. The sky was overcast and cool, a mild wind fingering her hair.
She couldn't run. Where would she go? He'd find and kill her before she got anywhere. No one would ever help her; there was no one she knew that could.
And besides, the very idea of leaving all of this, making it on her own, never seeing Blake or Keith or even Billy again…
It was so painful.
But there was a possibility even worse, and that was the awful thing...
The concept of never seeing the Joker again—the idea of this being the end, of never receiving an explanation and never being allowed to forgive him—was possibly the single most appalling fate she could imagine.
But he wouldn't want her forgiveness, she knew.
She wished he would let her absolve everything…
But he'd never say sorry.
That was all she wanted to hear. If he said sorry, just once, she would hold on to it until the end of the world. It would excuse everything he'd ever done or would do… if only he told her, truly, that he was sorry for the pain he was causing. If he ever let on that he cared…
She wanted him to. She wanted him to care more than anything in the world. But she really couldn't see how he did.
Was she just sex to him? Did she mean anything?
She didn't know, probably never would know.
This was so hard…
Jess cried, her makeup running down her cheeks, smearing black along her hands as she feebly rubbed at her eyes, hugging her knees to her chest.
"I can't do this," she told herself between sobs. "I can't do this… I can't do this anymore…"
A car horn blared just behind her and Jess jumped, spinning to look around at a sleek green vehicle which had been forced to a stop by the obstacle her prostrate form presented. She scrambled to her feet, spotting the tint of the windshield—too dark to be legal—and the hand of the driver extending from his newly rolled-down window, a gun in the palm, a smoking cigarette between two fingers. He gestured at her, vaguely threatening, and she caught the green and gold glint of the ring he wore on his hand.
She frowned and squinted at his jewelry. It almost looked like there was a golden question mark at the center of the ring…
Then, he steadied the gun at her.
Jess jumped out of the way just before the weapon went off, forgetting her tears and racing for the cover of the warehouses, sprinting for the narrow space between two buildings. The sounds of laughter from the occupants of the car hung on the air behind her and wheels screamed against pavement as the vehicle took off.
Jess didn't even glance around as she sprinted down a narrow, shadowed alley, dodging dented trash bins and broken pieces of the buildings on either side. Before her, flanked by warehouses as a barrier between this street and the next, was a tall chain link fence. Jess halted before it only momentarily—she was still aware of the car behind her, honking, the people inside shouting threatening phrases her way—and kicked off her heels, tossing them over the fence before mounting it.
The speed with which she scaled the barrier was startling even to her, but she accidentally let one leg buckle as she landed on the other side. Biting back a scream as a bloody gash opened across her knee, Jess wasted little time before grabbing her shoes and racing across the gravelly vacant lot, now searching desperately for her building of origin.
She heard the mysterious green car in the distance, rounding a corner, closing in on her, and she dashed down the street. For a reason far beyond her comprehension, the people in the vehicle were chasing her.
Why? She had no idea.
Jess veered abruptly into another shadowy alley when she saw the car turn the corner ahead, trying to cut her off. The driver spotted her, of course, and accelerated, striving to see exactly where she was headed.
She ran down the pathway, hearing the vehicle squeal into a U-turn in order to intercept her on the other side, and she had a moment to wonder very seriously why these people were taking time out of their lives to pursue her.
Was she on their turf or something? Did criminals have turf? Did people still use that word?
Before reaching the end of the alley, Jess spotted the yellow school bus on her left and made a mad dash for it, coming to the sudden understanding that being close to the Joker was actually probably safer than being away from him, especially in this place.
The car drove up behind her; she could hear the rev of its engine and the laughter from its occupants.
She was almost at the bus when someone, a third party, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her behind him, leveling a gun at the car and firing three shots. One of the bullets hit the front windshield, leaving a sizeable hole in the glass, and the car immediately pulled into reverse, performing yet another rapid U-turn before speeding away, three more bullets denting its bumper.
She watched it disappear into the distance, rounding a corner with a shriek of its tires.
Once the vehicle was gone, Jess was able to turn from the action and look up at her savior, breathing heavily with adrenaline and pure panic.
"Blake!" she cried, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. Blake was still staring after the car in shock and took a moment to collect himself before looking down at Jess and petting her hair softly as she wept against him.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "What did you think you were doing?" He pulled her away from him by the arm, examining her for a moment before demanding, "What the fuck happened to you?!"
Jess looked down at herself, noting just how much of a mess she was. Her dress had snagged on something at some point and there was a sizeable rip in the hem, blood from her knee streaked down her leg, she was sure she had some bruises from the Joker on her neck and other parts of her body, her hair was simply a mess and black makeup mingled with tears as they slid down her cheeks.
Jess hitched, weakly struggling to wipe some dirt off her dress and pat down her hair, attempting to keep from crying and make up some explanation that would be easy for Blake to swallow.
But it was all for naught as soon as Blake's eyes swept down and spotted the bruises left on her thighs by the Joker's fingers. His face crumpling into some kind of helpless understanding, he pulled her into a much-needed embrace, kissing the top of her head while she broke into tears afresh.
"What happened?" he whispered softly. "What'd he do to you?"
Jess found she couldn't explain. She opened her mouth, met Blake's eyes, and her words failed her. He saw this and his eyes grew even more gently comprehending.
"It's okay," he told her. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything, princess. I get it."
An incredible feeling of relief washed over her. She would never have to relive this experience to anyone. Blake knew. He understood. He seemed to have suddenly figured it out, but…
"How?" Jess managed after a moment.
"My sister," Blake—wonderful, powerful Blake—replied. "She went through somethin' similar."
His voice dropped away, letting silence hang on the chilly air.
"What happened to her?" Jess rasped, bunching his shirt comfortingly between her fingers.
Blake never spoke about himself, but he always seemed to know things. She wanted to know why.
He sighed and relaxed into her, arms wound tightly around her waist.
It took him a while before he drew in a deep breath, the memory obviously causing pain. Jess suddenly wished she hadn't asked.
"She ran, like you did," Blake told her. "Didn't get very far either. Then she went back to him." He paused, his silence heavy with years of sadness. "Then she died," he murmured.
Jess squeezed him, more sorry than she could say, feeling personally responsible for dredging this up in him. Very rarely did she think on how hard it was for the rest of the Twenty to do what they did every day, to miss their families and friends, to be affected by the Joker's world, to be thrown into this spiral of madness.
She'd been so childish, so selfish.
She wished she could take it all back.
"He killed her," Blake said. Jess looked up at him. He was still holding her tightly, not wanting to let her go, but his eyes were distant, caught in some lost memory. "So I went to him and tried to make him pay for it. But he was ready for me." Blake looked down suddenly, eyes catching Jess's. "You ever wonder how I got this scar?" he asked, pointing to the jagged disfigurement running from his forehead, across his left eye, to his cheekbone.
Jess stared at him for a moment, taken in by the depth of emotion on his face. She'd never seen Blake with much less than a smile and the fact that now his eyes were brimming with such deep misery was enough for her to want to save him, help him, make him forget his pain.
Jess reached up slowly, watching Blake's expression flicker from one of sorrow to faint confusion, then to something like hope as she gently grazed his left cheekbone, feeling the raised texture of the end of the scar there.
"Someone did this to you?" she whispered, unable to conceptualize it fully.
She'd always assumed it had been an accident, a car wreck or drunken bar fight…
"Yeah," Blake said, closing his eyes and turning his face into her palm as though he were ashamed to have her touch his blemish. "Did it slow, too. Calculating-like. Fucker pinned me to the ground and just…" He swallowed and Jess pressed her hand against his face, her thumb making comforting circles against his cheek. "It was a knife. Big, shiny knife like you see in horror movies. A kitchen knife."
Jess made a small sound of grief and slid her hand down to his neck, pulling herself closer to him in an warm hug. Blake's eyes opened.
"I'm so sorry," Jess whispered into his chest.
"Nah, princess," he replied, his tone attempting to be light. The crack in his voice however, the deep resonant emptiness, told her he was far from it. "It was a long time ago. I learned my lesson about how to deal with guys like him."
"Guys like the Joker," Jess said bitterly, her terror beginning to turn to hot anger.
How dare he!
"Unfortunately, no," Blake said.
Jess frowned and looked up into his eyes. He glanced back at the warehouse and let his grip on her relax, staring towards the darkness of the entryway.
"No, Joker ain't no Jimmy. What we have on our hands, now, is a horse of a different color. Jimmy ran on rage, on this hunt for power. The Joker…" he shrugged, paused, and started anew abruptly, needing to change the course of his explanation in order to explicate in full. "See, I'm starting to realize that, while people think they know what the boss is about, they're dead wrong. All of 'em. Ordinary folks, like we used to be, they just throw these labels on him. They… I don't know, Jess… They…"
"They try to justify him," Jess said, nodding. "In their own way, they do. They make these assumptions concerning his motives based off whatever they think is rational. Yeah."
"Right," Blake said. "But the Joker… he's not a rational guy. I can't figure out any way to deal with him besides loyalty." Blake pressed his lips together for a moment. "The Joker ain't no Jimmy," he repeated.
Jess sniffed.
"No advice for me, then?" she asked. Blake chuckled sadly.
"Concerning the boss?" he said. "None whatsoever. All I know is, Jimmy killed Malia and the Joker ain't no Jimmy. Maybe that means something for you, maybe it doesn't."
Jess sighed.
"I wish I understood him," she said. Blake shook his head.
"Sad thing is, princess… You're probably the closest one to it."
The two of them stayed outside talking for a long time, mostly about Blake's past, something he seemed almost glad to share. Many events in his former life were still causing him a lot of pain, but he mentioned that it felt good to reveal them to her.
"You know how to talk, kiddo," he told her, "but you're not bad at the listening part, either."
Jess had the distinct impression that he very rarely got the chance to impart any of this. People never saw this side of Blake—the mask of rough strength behind which he hid was enormously thick—but it made her affection for him deepen. He would always be wonderful, powerful Blake, only now he seemed a bit more human.
He didn't allow the sharing to go on for too long, however. Jess would have been content to sit and talk with him all day, forget about the crime going on in the warehouse behind them, but Blake was tethered to his duty and, she was coming to find out, his loyalty towards the boss. He deeply respected him, she realized. Even though his methods were terrifying and Blake couldn't understand why they were doing what they were doing for the most part, he knew that the Joker was some kind of genius and that it would be in his best interest to follow him wherever he went.
Jess thought it must be hard for the Twenty. She could blame lust or love. They had to question, every day, why they didn't simply attempt to overpower or even abandon their employer.
"We need to go back inside," Blake said, wrapping his arm around her and beginning to steer her towards the door.
A rush of fear hit Jess and she locked up her legs, resisting his pull like a defiant child.
"You go," she said hurriedly. "I'll stay here." Blake's lips tightened and he turned to face her, his expression stern.
"You're not gonna be able to hide from him from long," he told her bluntly. "You're part of this team, Jesster, and, whether or not you believe it, you're an important part. I'm not gonna let you leave, so the Joker will find you sooner or later. You want it to be on his terms or yours?"
This struck a chord in Jess, so resonant that she forgot her fear for a moment and became suddenly angry with herself. The Joker had scared her—not so surprising, he did that a lot—but instead of taking a breather and returning to the battle, Jess had been entertaining ideas of simply giving up.
That was not acceptable.
She was here and she was doing this. She wasn't going to allow him to begin walking all over her again, making her jump and cower whenever he entered a room. Sure, what he'd put her through today had probably been the most intense, hopeless experience of her life. But the fact was, she'd escaped it! And, against her better judgment, she felt no different in regards to him.
For better or for worse, her stubborn heart remained fixated on the same incorrigible man, though her feelings were becoming tempered by her didn't know why he'd done what he did, but she felt at her core that his motive hadn't been to truly damage certainty comforted her the tiniest bit.
This power-play with him was still going on, by God. She'd attempted to spite him and he'd one-upped her, but it was no reason to drop the game Jess was honestly starting to enjoy.
Squaring her shoulders, feeling newly empowered, Jess followed Blake into the warehouse.
It looked as though some kind of film shoot had just taken place; the camera had been set on the tripod and one of the hostages was slumped on the ground before it, papers scattered around him as the huge fan continued to blow cold air at his shivering form.
Jess walked up to him, regarding him curiously, and recognized him suddenly as Mike Engel, the reporter… with garish clown grease paint smeared over his features. He timidly looked up at her, hesitant, as though simply doing so would send her into a murderous fury. Jess kept her expression neutral as she met his eye, then strode towards him to pick up one of the papers around him.
He flinched when she bent down next to him and Jess scoffed, removing the sheet from the floor and reading the words written there in large red marker, set down by a familiar spidery hand.
"You failed to kill the lawyer," she read aloud, watching Engel shudder at the words he had obviously been forced to deliver into the camera. "I've got to get you off the bench and into the game. So here it is…"
The text stopped there, having filled up the page, and Jess searched the ground for the next bit of the message. She grabbed two more pieces of paper.
One, which seemed to be the introduction to the speech, simply read: I'm Mike Engel from Gotham Tonight. What does it take to make you people want to join in?
The end of the message Jess read out loud again, both delighted and horrified by what the Joker seemed to be proposing.
"Come nightfall, this city is mine, and anyone left here plays by my rules. If you don't want to be in the game…" She paused and glanced up to smile at the shaking Engel. "Get out now." Jess chuckled at the Joker's dramatic style and ran a hand through her hair before reading what was left on the paper. "But the bridge-and-tunnel crowd are in for a surprise."
So he'd made his threat into a camera that was sure to be broadcast on GCN. Jess looked down at the remaining sheets scattered around the camera and Engel. All of them, without exception, seemed to be scrawled with large, spiky red letters that simply announced "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
She was angry with him, but she couldn't help feeling a little fond of him, if only for his wicked cunning.
"You like it, Jesster?"
Speak of the devil.
His calm voice came from behind her, cracking softly, and a long spidery hand rested gently on her shoulder.
Jess jumped violently, unable to keep from doing so, and ducked her shoulder away from his hand, spinning around to face him and backing up. The Joker regarded her sternly for a moment, his full lips compressed into a tight line, his lanky form relaxed, the only hints of his irritation evident in the tightening muscles of his hands as his fingers clenched and unclenched.
Jess stared back at him, surprised and horrified that he had dared to touch her.
Had she not let him know well enough? Didn't he understand? She didn't want to be near him right now! She allowed betrayal and anger to form the lines of her expression, meeting his eye, finding strength in this silent, shaking rage.
And the Joker noticed, of course. He watched her momentarily, a fluttering hand reaching up to push away the light curls which hung, tousled, over his eyes, before raising his eyebrows and turning away to look at Engel, muttering only a quiet, slightly disconcerted "Hm…" at her behavior.
He approached the reporter, who whimpered and flinched away from his reach, and bent down, grasping the man's lapel in his gloved fingers.
"Well," he said jovially, "time to move!"
Engel let out a cry despite himself and the Joker hooted as he hauled the smaller man to his feet, pulling him close and steering him towards the rest of the hostages. Jess heard him start to speak to Engel furtively, into his ear, as though they were good friends.
"See, the little lady's feeling kind of upset right now." He paused, threw a dour glance back at Jess, then looked toward the reporter again and continued, "She's mad at me… but," he sighed, faux-wistful, "what do you do… Women, right?" Of course, the Joker had scarcely finished before starting to laugh outrageously.
Reaching the captives, he slapped Engel on the back and pushed him down into the crowd, the poor man letting out a cry of terror as he fell gracelessly on top of two or three other people.
Jess folded her arms, torn between feeling so angry she could scream at his fucking pig-headedness and a little charmed by his very nature. God, she was so in love with him she didn't know what to do. She wished there was some way to back out of this now… how could she feel so deeply for this… madman?!
He'd wormed his way first into her brain, then into her body, then into her heart.
Looking back now, it was easy to notice what she hadn't before: that he'd targeted her from the start. She found it very hard to believe that he thought as little about her as he implied. She wouldn't be here if she wasn't in his thoughts almost constantly.
Jess smiled at the idea of plaguing him like that and wondered how he felt about her anger with him. This kind of antagonism was new, after all. Their previous fights now seemed like petty squabbles and Jess, to some extent, could understand that he had laughed at her then.
But he wasn't laughing now—trying to make light of it, but not laughing—and it greatly pleased her that, at the very least, he understood that what he had done would not be forgiven so simply.
And certainly not in the ways he had made her forgive him before, by slamming her against a wall and using his mouth to force her to.
She watched as he circled the hostages, speaking easily and quietly with a few members of the Twenty gathered around. One of them, Jackson, made him chuckle—not loud and mocking, but quietly, under his breath—and clap a hand on his shoulder in an odd sign of something like affection. Jackson looked to the ground as soon as the Joker strode away, obviously bashfully pleased.
Jess got angry again, watching him, so nonchalant, at ease and normal after what had just happened. He didn't know that she had been chased by that awful car, of course, but he could at least pretend to feel a little ashamed of himself for all but forcing himself on her.
Her hands clenched, unkempt nails biting into the flesh of her palms as she surveyed him, making no effort to hide her death glare which, if seen, would surely get her into trouble.
He didn't like when people looked at him wrong. But she was past the point of giving a flying fuck.
As if to illustrate Jess's thoughts, the Joker, on his round about the group, reached out and playfully swatted the hair of a young woman, who had her knees pulled up to her chest in a pathetic display of terror. A young man beside her—tall, the sporty type, with short blond hair and powerful biceps; probably a high school football player—lurched into action at this, reflexively striking up at the Joker as the girl squealed into her knees.
Sighing deeply through his nose, the Ace of Knaves leaned back to survey the miscreant, allowing the boy time to wonder what he was going to do before he bent down and hauled the hostage to his feet, regardless of the fact that the young man was wearing a full leg cast.
The boy cringed and stumbled, the eyes flicking up to meet the Joker's filled only with foolish rage and repulsion. Obviously, the boy had more guts than brain cells. Jess remembered him as one of the strugglers when they had entered the warehouse.
And, boy, was he pissed to be here. He was, quite literally, shaking from a mix of rage and fear, the latter probably only serving to increase his fury. Jess could remember this feeling from her past experiences with the Joker: anger at one's self for being so profoundly terrified of this clown.
It made you want to kill him, but you knew you were practically hopeless, and that made the fury white-hot until you did something stupid to release a portion of it.
This boy? This boy was ready to do something stupid.
Taking no care for the comfort of the young man's leg, the Joker made him stand while he started to ask questions, his red-painted mouth inches from his victim's face. The boy only sneered as the Clown Prince interrogated him, eyebrows furrowed as he forced yes or no answers through shaking lips, the hands tied in front of his body squirming in their bonds.
Jess moved a little closer, interested in what the Joker was saying to the kid. It was making his face grow red. He cast his eyes cast to the ground as the criminal breathing sour breath onto his face did everything in his power to break and humiliate him.
"How did you feel?" she heard the Joker asking, ever the psychoanalyst. "Did it scare you, David? Hm? Did you start praying to Jesus?" He giggled. "Or-- or did you just cry for your mommy?"
The second the word "mommy" left the Joker's mouth, the boy—David—snapped.
Moving with a sort of fierce animal speed, he abruptly cracked his forehead against the Joker's, forcing the clown back, a streak of blood appearing on his brow line. The boy followed his antagonist immediately, literally throwing his body against the boss's, bringing them both to the ground and slamming his bound fists down on him over and over, yelling in rage and exhilaration.
The Joker screamed with laughter as the young man attempted to pummel him, and the rest of the men jumped up from their posts to try to rip the boy away.
They were fast.
Jess was faster.
She'd found herself running towards the action with little to no forethought as soon as the young man had struck, was next to their struggling forms before the rest of the men had time to react.
Something had boiled over inside of her, the product of all that had happened to her in such a short time. Rage was pounding in her veins, white and red and black, unbidden and unfocused, with an intensity that nearly scared her.
She grabbed the boy by his hair, ripping him forcibly off the Joker and onto the floor beside him. David yelled, his hands flying up to attempt to push her hands away, but she kept her grip on him, shaking him back and forth before sending his head towards the ground. He clawed up at her, screaming, specks of spittle hitting her shoes in his hysteria as she stood over him and started to aim violent kicks at his torso and groin. His fury escalated with hers, it seemed; he was almost incomprehensible, his rants coming out more as indistinct growls.
Jess grunted every time her foot collided with him, her vision red with rage, unable to believe that he had dared to do that. The little fucking worm…
No one, no one, was allowed to even lay a harmful finger on the Joker other than Jess herself. That young man, that child, was naïve and stupid enough to believe that he had the right to even touch her man, and he had to be taught a clear lesson.
He was screaming at her now, face red, spittle running down his chin as she continued to kick him in the gut. Jess distinctly caught the words "clown," "bitch," and "slut" before her shoe finally collided with his head in a satisfying way.
It shut him up. His hands flew to his temple and he balled rapidly into a fetal position, heaving a deep gasp before starting to moan quietly in pain.
"Try that again," Jess told him breathlessly, looking down on his crumpled body, "and I'll cut your fucking nose off."
Even she was taken aback by the awfulness of her words. She glanced up at the men for the first time since beginning her assault on David, noticing that they were all frozen and watching the spectacle.
The Joker was watching her, too, but less still. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, eyes darting to note every detail of the scene, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other tossing up and catching his favorite little knife. There was no smile on his face any longer; only a stern look of absolutely intense interest, trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen next. His chin was slightly tucked down, and he worked his jaw a little and tongued his scars from the inside, dark eyes fiery and involved.
The sight of him brought a strange sort of anger… She wanted to knock him down and out, make him submit, make him do everything she wanted. Only for a while. A while would last her a lifetime.
Looking back down on the belligerent, stupid teenager in front of her, Jess aimed another kick at his gut.
There was a sudden hand on her arm, pulling her softly away with him. Jess knew that it was probably some concerned member of the Twenty who wanted her to sit down and count to ten but she didn't resist his pull, staring down at David, breathing heavily.
She had exhausted her anger on this boy… and she felt no guilt concerning it.
Turning her back on the victim, Jess found that the hand belonged to Blake—no surprise there—and followed him, knowing that the Joker was watching her retreat as closely as he had watched her attack.
"Maybe you're right… you should wait outside for a while. We should probably keep most of the hostages alive…"
Jess managed a smile and shook her head at him, taking a deep breath of the cool air and looking across the gravelly lot at the hulking form of the bus. Her head was clearing a little, and it felt better to be out of that warehouse, but every time she thought of the Joker—doing so was inevitable—she felt a surge of anger.
Jess turned back to Blake.
"You can go back in," she told him in a soft voice, not liking the concerned expression with which she was being regarded. "I'm fine now…" She bit her lip. "Sorry about that…"
Blake shook his head as though he was simply at a loss for words by her actions.
"Didn't know you had it in you," he replied, chuckling a little, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jess grinned half-heartedly. He was looking at her like she was something new, as though he'd watched a different Jess come through today.
He was looking at her like he didn't like what he saw.
"Seriously," Jess muttered, getting a little sad that she had unnerved him so thoroughly. "Go back in. He'll be needing you soon."
Blake shrugged, nearly turned around, then thought better of it and came towards Jess quickly, folding her into a loving hug.
"You'll be okay," he whispered, reassuring both himself and her. "You're a strong girl."
Then, without another word, he let go and walked quickly back into the warehouse.
Jess sighed. Today had not been her day.
She was outside for about fifteen minutes, wandering around the area near the warehouse. She found a pack of cigarettes in the bus and took one, pulling the soothing smoke into her lungs and sighing in content.
Almost as soon as she'd stomped the butt out under her heel, a movement towards the door of the warehouse caught her eye and she watched as a lone figure exited.
The Joker strode into the lot, eyes darting quickly around, first sliding along the contours of the great yellow bus, then moving to her lone form. Jess felt rage swell up at the mere sight of him, strong and insane and powerful enough to override rational thought. She clenched her fists.
"Joker," she snarled, watching his eyebrows dart up.
He put a hand to his chest as though to ask "Me?" then glanced behind him like he was making sure there wasn't another "Joker" to whom she was referring.
Jess was in no mood for his games. The fact that her reactions to him hadn't taken the spring out of his step was enough to infuriate anyone.
"Oh, fuck you," she told him.
His hand dropped, his face grew serious and he stared at her, his fingers waving slowly at his sides as though he was itching to reach for his knife.
"Yeah, you heard me," Jess said, her voice furious but low. "You think you can just do what you did to me and be received with open arms? You stupid pig… I can't even stand to look at you right now. Go away."
"Go… away?" the Joker said, his tongue moving over the words as though their very shape repulsed him.
Jess watched his mouth twitch as he thought over what she'd said. He wasn't taking this seriously, he was dying to laugh at her!
"Yes," Jess muttered through clenched teeth, her anger increasing as she watched him try to hold in his hilarity. It wasn't that it was unexpected, but she yearned to have her words sting, leave his pride bruised. Instead, she managed to irritate him. And then he seemed to decide it was funny. "Leave me alone."
He didn't move. He merely stood there, his gaze lowering to the ground as he began to giggle silently, laughter wracking his body. He pushed a hand through his jumbled curls, mouth splitting into the horrible grin, his face paint a stark white against an otherwise dark backdrop.
Anger filled Jess, its core burning in her chest as her nails dug into the palms of her hands. She wanted to scream.
"Did you not hear me?" she said instead, this time more loudly, more fiercely. "I don't want to look at you, you fucking crazy clown!"
She thought the phrase—"fucking crazy clown"—seemed familiar. She thought she'd called him that before, maybe, and something about it elicited phenomenal results from him last time. Anything that managed to gain emotional responses, besides laughter, was something she'd use again.
It worked, as it turned out.
Only half a second passed before his laughter fell away and he was walking at her—charging, actually. Jess had no time to turn and make a run for it. The Joker was on her in a moment, his skeletal fingers closing around her throat. She gasped as he drove her backwards by the neck, pushing her fully into the side of the bus and once more settling his weight atop her, fury smoldering in his eyes.
Jess only allowed a whimper to escape before she gathered herself and stiffened, meeting his angry gaze with fire of her own and grabbing his hand, trying to pry his fingers away.
His grip only tightened and she gasped for breath, never taking her eyes away from his, trying to level the playing field and let him know that she was not going to be intimidated this time.
The murderous look on his face made that difficult, of course.
"Get away from me," she managed to say in low, breathless voice, shaking with rage.
The Joker merely leered, leaning closer and pressing his nose against hers. She tried to turn her head as his admittedly sour breath assaulted her nose but he simply raised the hand that was not clamped around her throat and slowly pressed her cheek, turning her face back to him.
"Look at me," he ordered sharply. Jess's eyes found his and he pet her cheek softly, an ironic reward. "Good girl… So, listen…" His eyes darted up and away from her, searching the sky for the words. His tongue jumped out to lick at the scar on his lower lip. "I'm the kind of guy who gets what he wants."His gaze was back on her, now. Jess exhaled noisily to indicate her scorn. He looked back down at her and smiled evilly. "Oh, it's true, Jesster. Always have been, always will be."
Jess could hear in the lowness of his voice a sort of animal snarl, hidden by a smooth, practiced tenor designed to keep the listener from guessing what was going on inside. She'd come to know him well enough that this put-on exterior didn't work; she was beginning to be able to read him.
"And when I don't get what I want," he went on as the index finger of his free hand slid leisurely down her jaw line, "people tend. To get. Hurt." On the last word, his fingers suddenly folded around her chin, tilting her head back forcibly as he pressed into her.
Jess inhaled sharply, staring at him, wondering what his next move was going to be. The grip on her throat had loosened significantly, yet the rest of his body had not lost its coiled, tense posture; he was on the verge of striking, snapping, and she wasn't in the mood to keep him from plummeting off the edge.
"And, uh, right now," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "I'm getting ready to hurt you."
It came out in a snarl, sort of startling Jess, who squared her shoulders the best she could given the situation and braced her defenses against him.
"Why?" she asked brazenly, her voice dripping with scorn. "What is it you want?"
The Joker's reaction was immediate. His entire weight slammed Jess against the bus with a hollow echoing thump and his fingers wrapped themselves back around her neck, both hands this time, his thumbs pressing against her windpipe.
"I take. What's. Mine, Jesster." He spoke slowly, carefully, enunciating each syllable so that they rang clear in her ears. "And I've told you before, so this time you oughta pay attention. Hm?"
He shook her a little, by the throat. Jess was starting to need to wheeze a little to draw in enough air, but so far the Joker was keeping himself surprisingly restrained.
He leaned into her, greasy curls falling over his eyes as he brought his mouth near the side of her face. She could feel hot breath on her neck, the hard planes of his body pressing against hers, cementing the situation and reminding her with the slightest movement that he had her exactly where he wanted her. Jess shivered, unsure whether she was repulsed or attracted.
Perhaps a little of both.
"I want you," the Joker said firmly, his full lips sweeping against her ear. "Youare mine. Always have been," he grinned, "always will be."
He pulled back to look into her eyes again, more intense, more serious than she'd ever seen him. He truly meant what he was saying. Jess didn't know what she'd been thinking the first few times he'd told her this; perhaps she'd taken it more of a sign of affection or protectiveness. It was only now, pressed up against a bus with his hands around her throat, that she realized it was neither.
It was a threat. A promise, but not exactly the kind a girl hopes for. A reminder that, no matter what she did, no matter where she went or how long they stayed apart, Jessica Anderson belonged to the Joker. She was now and she would always be his property. Andit seemed the implication was that he would always be there to claim her.
He was telling her that there was no escape.
"Get it?"
Slowly, licking her chapped lips, Jess met his gaze and nodded.
It was loooooooooong, I know... Hope you don't mind.
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