Hey guys! So it's like 2 in the morning and I'm kind of, ahem, out of it. But I needed to get this chapter up before I could sleep!

It's been busy here in Immy-Ville. The main thing that has happened this week is that my beta, Tamara, has actually come across the nation to stay with meeeeeee! She's sitting next to me RIGHT NOW talking about nonsense and it's wonderful! I mean, who gets to meet their best friend/beta? This is amazing. It's cool cuz it's like we haven't just been internet friends for two years. Having her here is so normal and awesome!

Oh also we met Brandi Carlile and the Hanseroth twins after driving 18 hours to see them at a show. If you don't know who they are, look them up! They are amazing and gorgeous. Especially Tim.

To the anonymous reviewer, Harlequin- I would love to discuss your questions with you! However, I'm not in the habit of emailing readers from my personal account. Do you have an FF account? You can PM me instead! I look forward to hearing from you!

Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews and patience with me. Love you all! Enjoy!

Guilty of dropping these bombs in the city
But I'm innocent; love is the motive, that's why I'm killing them
Guilty of setting my fire in all fifty
But I'm innocent, blame it on my equilibrium
In the days of kings and queens I was a jester
Treat me like a god, oh, they treat me like a leper
You see me move back and forth between both
I'm trying to find a balance
I'm trying to build a balance

-Atmosphere, "Trying to Find a Balance"

I never wanted to kill
I am not naturally evil
Such things I do
Just to make myself more attractive to you
Have I failed?

-Morrissey, "The Last of the Famous International Playboys"

The bombs were all set. Scratching his nose, Blake stepped over the side of the ferry, planting a firm foot on uneven wooden boards, his eyes straying vacantly to the low grey horizon. A few men were still milling about on the docks, making last minute adjustments or double checking equipment, while the rest of them stood in little clusters at the waterline, also watching the sky. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air as men lit cigarettes, celebrating a job beautifully completed, taking a well-deserved break—if Blake could say so himself—in the downtime between explosions.

Thinking he could use a bit of nicotine himself, Blake squatted down at the end of the dock to wash the oil stains from his callused hands, glancing idly around for any sign of the boss. He'd disappeared to God-knows-where for God-knows-what. Given Jess's striking absence, Blake could only imagine.

But he didn't want to. And he chose not to.

Suppressing the familiar knot in his stomach which formed whenever he thought of that particular part of this experience, he strode toward Jackson and Billy. The latter was wearing that same pained, mildly irate expression that now so often graced his features. He was chewing his lower lip contemplatively, nodding at something Jackson was saying, and when Blake stepped up beside him, his bright green irises flickered with a hint of hurt—betrayal.

It wasn't hard to figure out whose side Billy wanted him on, and his allegiance to the Joker—not to mention that little blond in the red dress—was a constant source of conflict between the two men. Today more so than others, it seemed. Billy stuffed his fists in his pockets and refused to meet Blake's eyes.

Jackson, however, turned to him with a grin.

"How's the party goin', el Capitano?"

Blake wasn't sure whether or not he liked it when the men called him things like that. They had all sorts of nicknames for him, thrown around behind the Joker's back: Lieutenant General, First Mate, Sidekick, Number Two… That last one was their favorite. But for the most part, his relationships with the other men were good, and the teasing was all in harmless fun.

Still, it bothered Blake a little. It wasn't like being second in command to a brilliantly insane terrorist was a life dream. For fuck's sake, he'd wanted to be a police officer when he was a kid. But the fact was, he'd worked hard and long for the kind of trust and borderline respect the Joker was now showing him, and he'd be damned if he was going to give that up any time soon.

So, in answer to Jackson's question, Blake shrugged.

"It's goin'. And, uh… if the boss has anything to say about it, it'll be goin' big."

"Seems like it. Seth said he threw in some fireworks for when the fuses light. He thinks the boss will like that."

"He probably will…"

"Does anyone else feel like this shit's coming to a head really quick?" It was the first time Billy had spoken to him all day, and Blake turned quickly to look at him, hoping to catch his eye and see if things were good between them. The smaller man, however, was staring pensively across the water, a phenomenon that seemed widespread. Blake could only chuckle, feeling a little helpless.

"It's just been a long day, Bill," he replied. "Tonight we can party. Tomorrow we can sleep."

"Won't that be a change of pace," Jackson muttered, smirking a little. He handed Blake the cigarette he was about to ask for, reaching in his back pocket and tossing him a lighter in the same fluid motion.

"No…" Billy said, his lips tightening. "Tonight's different. This… is different. You heard the Joker's threat. Anyone left in this city and all that."

"It's huge," Jackson offered as Blake took his first deep drag. "Definitely the biggest, weirdest thing I've ever done…" He thought a moment, then amended, "Well, that night in jail excluded… and maybe the parade… Shit, Billy, what are you talking about? This really isn't that big of a deal."

Blake was chuckling before Jackson had finished speaking and Billy, seeming a little mollified, took a deep breath and looked towards the bus. The point was, they'd been through worse, and that was a comfort. Besides, overall, things were going extremely well.

In that same moment, a dark expression shadowed Billy's face, the mean kind of sneer that Blake only saw him wear when the subject of Jess was brought up. Sighing, knowing he'd probably see something disturbing, he turned to follow Billy's gaze and watched as the girl in question clambered from the emergency exit, tugging her dress down over her thighs, glancing around with a mighty guilty look on her face. The source of that guilt followed right behind, in the form of a tall clown man trying to force his hands through the sleeves of an inside-out jacket. He stumbled when his feet met the gravel and Jess, laughing, steadied him by the elbow.

They looked cozy. Too cozy. Blake didn't like it.

"I just feel like something's ending," Billy said quietly, his eyes still trained on the girl and her clown.

"Enough with the feelings," Blake said, distaste tinting his words. "We just do what we're supposed to do. You said yourself, that's the way to survive."

"Is that all you're doing?" Jackson asked, surprised. "Surviving?" He cocked a crooked grin. "I'm having a great time. You know, as long as we're not physically behind bars again, the chances of getting caught are slim to none. We don't even exist here." He, too, looked back at the Joker, though with a more forgiving air. "That's the genius. We're free to leave our prints, our DNA, all over a crime scene. Nowhere to trace it to. No matches."

The man had a point. And, Blake had to admit, it omitted a lot of the stress he usually suffered when engaging in illegal activities. The thrill was still there, of course, but the aftermath was always a lot less nerve-wracking here in Gotham. He was perpetrating fictional crimes against a fictional people. It was like a wonderland of types, as long as you didn't think too hard about it.

And Blake spent most of his time making sure he didn't think too hard about it.

"I'm coming to think that has a lot to do with why we're here," he said, turning his back on the bus.

Neither man replied, and in the lingering silence he had time to wonder why this kind of thing wasn't discussed more often. They all had a million questions and a million theories, but whenever someone tried to vocalize, the rest clammed up. It was uncomfortable, and Blake wasn't about to force the issue… But he had to admit, talking might help straighten a few things out. He took another drag on the cigarette, watching his cloud of smoke dissipate into the air.

Suddenly, Billy's mouth twisted into a blatant sneer and he smacked his lips.

"See you guys," he muttered, once more jamming his hands in his pockets and unexpectedly turning to leave.

"Hey, what…" But he was already marching towards the waterline. Jackson caught Blake's eye with a subtle look of comprehension as he motioned over Blake's shoulder. Turning, he caught sight of the reason behind Billy's hasty retreat.

"How are we doing?" the Joker asked, his voice low, all business as he came up beside Blake and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He looked sweaty and mildly exhausted, his makeup running in streaks across his forehead. Blake managed to smile at him.

"We're good," he said.

"All systems go and all that?"

"All systems go, Boss. The barrels are rigged to blow, we've got the wireless interference set up and those, uh… packages you wanted them to find are in place."

"Perfect." The word was relished on his tongue, and he reached into an inner pocket on his dirty purple trench coat to bring out the detonator. Blake regarded it, half wary, half enchanted. The boss was a whiz when it came to explosives; he knew his shit, no doubt about that. Not just anyone could build two bombs, each with its own remote detonator and yet another device that would set them both off simultaneously. A master switch, really. Not everyone could even conceptualize it.

But the Joker could.

Looking towards the ferries, the Joker licked his lips and pretended to bring a gloved finger crashing down on the red button in the center of the device, making a little noise of mock-explosion at the back of his throat. Giggling gleefully, he turned to Jackson and abruptly changed the subject.

"You were teaching little Jesster how to play with guns…" He formed an imaginary firearm with his thumb and forefinger, pointing it directly at the other man, who nodded. Blake ran a nervous hand over his peroxide blond hair. There was something in the Joker's tone that suggested displeasure, and both of them were on guard against that. "That… That might turn out to have been a very dangerous idea." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, moving his hand to suggest firing the weapon.

Jackson shrugged, a little sheepish and more than a little wary, but kept his cool.

"She asked me to," he replied. "I figured she should learn to protect herself… You don't want her dyin' on us, do you Boss?"

The Joker thought for a moment, tonguing his scars behind his lips, fingertips waggling in the air. Blake had to swallow a rush of disgust that the man had to even consider whether the possibility was good or bad.

"No…" he said slowly, after a moment, that pensive look still on his face. "That'd be…" he sighed, wistful "…a pity." He paused, then let out a little high-pitched giggle. "Though it would make a few things a little easier." Blake couldn't help but clear his throat disapprovingly, and the Joker looked over at him with half-lidded eyes, his brows arched high. "Oh… would that upset you, Blake?" He twisted his face into the mockery of a frown, and Blake felt he kind of deserved that jab. As it was, he shrugged and looked away. The boss understood this response all too well. "Yeah… In that case, I guess we're stuck with her. Just don't, uh… facilitate her use of the weaponry around here unless she asks." He looked back and forth between the two men. "Got it?"

"Got it," they replied in unison. Blake had no idea why that mattered. Jess would almost definitely ask for more firing lessons; what difference did it make whether or not they were offered first?

But the boss wasn't going to explain himself.

"Now," he clapped his hands together once, surveying the scene in front of him. "We oughta make our escape. The Russians'll be at my warehouse. And our little, ahem, welcome party won't satisfy them for long."

Of course not. They'd want to talk to the boss, not his ignorant group of henchmen guarding a complacent crowd of hostages.

"So…" the Joker pursed his lips at Blake and made a 'round-em-up' gesture in the air with his index finger. "Do your thing."

With no more ado, he stalked off towards Jesster. Blake watched for a moment as he threw a purple clad arm over the little girl's shoulder and said something in her ear, something which made her giggle quietly. After having to comfort her earlier, after seeing what he'd done to her, how scared and upset she'd been, the displays of affection between them were off-putting. It seemed that neither wanted to stay mad at each other for long, though from what Blake had seen, their squabbling made up a vast majority of their relationship. Perhaps they liked making up as much as they liked fighting.

It wasn't healthy, though Blake didn't see how it could be. He saw as clearly as anyone the extent of the Joker's obsession with Jessica; what he wanted to do with her in the long run was a fucking mystery, but for now he got his kicks out of warping everything she used to be.

What scared him was how open Jess was to being twisted. There was no fight left in her, at least not against the boss, and it was starting to become apparent that she was quite dependent on him. At the least, it was clear who she cared most about.

And she did care, that much was certain. The way she watched him, the way her eyes lit up when he entered a room, when he spoke, when he was so much as mentioned, was evidence enough of how much she cared.

Or perhaps care was a bad word. It seemed to Blake that the obsession went both ways. Maybe Jess was under the impression that her emotions ran deep, but to an objective observer—alright, perhaps not entirely objective—there was nothing that connected the two but fixation, perhaps an odd kind of mutual dependence. And an obvious, though completely inconceivable, attraction.

One thing was sure—Jess wasn't as sane as she seemed. A reasonable person didn't become obsessed with the Joker; the idea of him, maybe, but not the actual person. Jess was concealing some kind of deep-seated lunacy, even if it didn't manifest itself in typical conversation. She was nutso over the boss, which pretty much made her nutso in general.

Sighing, Blake shrugged at Jackson and turned toward the groups of men at the waterline.

"Alright, ladies," he announced loudly, "time to head out."

The Chechen's guys—formerly, at least—were already gathered in the warehouse when they arrived, clustered in little groups. There were about a dozen of them, and for a moment Jess felt awed by the influence the Joker exhibited over each and every person in this building. The members of the Twenty who had stayed behind to guard the hostages were trying to make nice, and a few of them had succeeded in roping the gangsters into casual conversation.

The large warehouse chamber was filled with relatively pleasant chatter, and it looked as though nothing interesting had happened while the others were at the ferry docks. Jess strode in, feeling tall and sexy after her spectacular reunion with the Joker, and surveyed the large group of criminals, her eyes wandering lazily towards the hostages on the ground, tied together with rope.

Some of the gangsters were leering at her, she noticed. She supposed she'd have to get used to that at some point, but for now, after this extraordinarily long day, her main priority was a feeling of safety, illusory or otherwise. So the first thing she did was stride over to where she'd left her new Glock, withdrawing it from its case and making no effort to hide her actions as she loaded it with a full magazine. She glanced around for a carrying device and, after a moment, her eyes fell on a black holster belt, which fitted rather loosely around her waist. But she'd be lying if she were to say she didn't feel like a badass with it equipped.

She returned to her boss, who graced her with a sardonic, slightly patronizing, expression. Whatever. He thought it was hot.

"Joker," one man in particular, tall and thin, black hair captured back in a sleek ponytail, strode toward Jess and the boss, hardly sparing her smaller form a second glance. "Have I delivered or have I delivered?" His smirk was cocky. Jess immediately disliked him, but from the look on the Joker's face he was in their good books.

The Joker glanced around at the Russian gang members and Jess wondered fleetingly how many of them were American born. Not that it mattered, but it was interesting because this man didn't have the Chechen's heavy accent. He sounded like a born-and-raised Gothamite.

"Yeah," the Joker said with a sardonic smile, "you delivered." He sounded like he was going to leave it at that, and the man's face fell slightly. Had he been expecting more praise? The boss noticed immediately, of course, and his painted mouth split in a delighted grin. "Oh what's the matter, Alex? Hm? Think you deserve more than a pat on the back? You want, like, a trophy for betrayal?"

The guy, Alex, looked affronted, his mouth gaping. Obviously, he hadn't been dealing with the Joker for long.

"I know," the boss said, stepping forward to put his hand on Alex's shoulder. "I'll lend you Jessica for a while." Jess's eyes snapped up at this, insulted and more than a little worried. Unfortunately, she wouldn't have put it beyond him to be completely serious about this. However, before she was able to speak up and tell him she'd rather kill herself than touch this greasy slime ball, the Joker was grinning and laughing, smoothing Alex's lapels while the Russian stood, uncomfortably ill at ease. "Just as long as you bring her back the way you took her. No dents, I mean. And, uh, if you scratch the paint you're in big trouble."

His growl at the end of the last sentence told Jess that he wasn't being serious, but Alex was skating on thin ice and would probably fall in and drown if he kept up his current attitude.

The mobster glanced nervously down at Jessica, some part of him considering whether or not she'd be a bad trophy at all, the other parts relatively sure the clown was taking him for a ride. Jess sneered at him, wondering what his response would be.

But, as was usually the case, all he could think to do was silently gape at the boss, who sighed.

"No?" he asked Alex, reaching down and gripping Jess's arm to proffer it at the silent mobster. "You sure? She's a great ride." Ok, that was enough. Jess ripped her arm away from the Joker's fingers and brought it hard into his side instead, making him stumble a little and crack up. She turned on her heel and stormed away, only in earshot of the two men long enough to hear the Joker proclaim, "Perfect, Alex, now you got her mad at me." He smacked his lips. "Again."

Not really mad. She knew he was joking and, in some perverse way, she was actually a little flattered. He'd practically complimented her talent in bed, and she was learning to put stock in the little comments, the ones that tended to mean the most. But that didn't mean she wanted to be around while he was saying those things to some sleazy gangster named Alex.

Jess was across the room, heading into a conversation with Blake and Jackson, when she turned back again to look at her clown and noticed that the gangster was beckoning him outside. Apparently Alex wanted a word in private.

She didn't know why she followed them. To this day, she absolutely could not tell you. Perhaps it was the look on Alex's face, the way he followed the Joker's every move with his eyes, suspicious, angry, sizing him up. Perhaps it was the way the Joker had acted towards him—the man had done his bidding, but the clown hadn't attempted to treat him with anything besides thinly veiled hostility.

Perhaps it was that blossoming feeling of dread hanging over her all day, shoved to the back of her mind but present as a pit in her stomach. Whatever it was, it had Jess turning on her heel and following after them, a few yards behind them, unnoticed as they made their way outside.

She hung by the door to the warehouse watching them stride across the lot, towards the bus. When they'd reached the middle of the expanse of gravel, the Joker turned to face Alex, whose back was to Jess, and the Russian guy started to talk. Jess didn't have to strain very hard to hear the conversation. She leaned against the doorframe, mildly amused, but neither of them had detected her as of yet.

"So, I've been thinking," Alex started, trying hard to keep a tremor from his voice as the clown regarded him, amused and carefully curious. "I mean, after you came and talked to me, I did a lotta work rallyin' my guys together, you know?" The Joker's expression changed—suspicious, guarded. He knew what was coming. "I'm just sayin', Joker, they weren't so sold on you, ya know? In fact, if I hadn't been around, you'd be workin' with a lot fewer guys is all I'm sayin'."

Jess closed her eyes briefly in irritation. If that was all he was saying he would've shut up by now. She wanted to call him on that, but she figured eavesdropping, watching the Joker work, would be more interesting.

"Your point?"

The boss said it like he already knew Alex's point, a fact the gangster picked up on, to judge by the quaver in his voice when he next spoke.

"Well, how do you plan on keepin' 'em lined up all neat-like for you, without me backin' your orders, right? I seen these guys, Joker. They ain't fuckin' around. Change is tough for 'em and they already feel like their necks are stickin' out, all exposed-like." He paused, but the Joker just gave him a terse look, his tongue moving along the insides of his cheeks. He was starting to get nervous, but his tone was also getting more hostile. Some men counteracted fear with violence. They were the dangerous ones. "I-I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Unstable, my guys are, unpredictable. You need someone up front with 'em, someone they already respect."

"Someone like you?" the Joker guessed.

"Yeah, that's right. Me. I busted my ass for you, Joker. And all I'm sayin' is, it'd be in everyone's best interests, especially yours, if we joined up as leaders. Co-bosses, I guess. Then everyone's happy. And, if not…" he paused, his tone low, dangerous, dramatic. "Well, if not, you might have a mutiny on your hands."

Jess couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. This asshole was practically threatening the Joker! Was he actually a potential hazard- or was he just an idiot?

The Joker stared at him hard for a moment and smacked his lips. Jess could see the irritation plainly etched into his face, frightening and dangerous. He was getting ready to snap, and his hands twisted, his fingers clenching themselves subconsciously. Jess tensed and her hand traveled of its own volition to the gun on her belt, fingers brushing against the comforting, cool metal.

"A mutiny, huh?" The Joker tilted his chin up, glancing at the warehouse roof and squinting an eye. He sucked in his cheeks, then bared his teeth at Alex, cracking his jaw. "Look, listen, that's real sweet. I appreciate the offer, but, uh… See I'm not ready for that kind of relationship. I mean, we just met."

Alex was furious. "You don't wanna fuck with me, Joker."

The boss giggled with delight.

"No, Alex, I think you have that backwards."

"No," the gangster was starting to sound desperate. "You don't know what you're getting into, clown."

"Okay, see, let me make this… simple to understand," the Joker said. "What you don't seem to grasp is that this isn't, like, a two-way street. It's more of a one way pay-off. My way. Your prize is, you get to be part of the winning team." The Joker's widely gesticulating arms told Jess he already assumed this was going to come out in his favor but Alex was completely tense; Jess could feel the anger steaming off him in waves. "See I don't do partners."

"Oh you don't fuckin' do partners, do you?"

Before Jess could react in any way, Alex had quickly drawn his gun and pointed it straight at her clown's head, point blank range. He let out a bitter laugh at the Joker's quirked eyebrows.

"Ooh Alex, you're braver than I thought." The boss smirked. "That's kinda sexy."

Alex growled. "Seems like you got two fuckin' choices here, freak. But first, raise your fuckin' hands."

Sneering, the Joker looked again at the barrel of the firearm and slowly lifted his arms, elevating his hands to chest height in a sign of surrender that managed to be absolutely condescending. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to Jess, standing a few yards behind Alex's shoulder. His expression didn't flicker when he noticed her, but the slight tilt of his head told her he was expecting her to intervene if things got terrible.

And they were already pretty bad.

Jess's heart started to pound as the gravity of this situation hit her. Shit. Shit shit shit. What the fuck was she going to do? Hadn't she just been thinking today that she would never kill anyone? And now she was here, forced to fire a bullet before the man she loved was shot in the head.

Or was the situation really as bad as all that? Did J have this under control? Was this a test? Fuck tests! But did that mean she actually had to murder the thug? This wasn't fair! She didn't know if she could deal with this. Maybe she could just wound Alex, distract him…

Hands shaking uncontrollably, Jess fumbled for the Glock, feeling helpless and scared as the Joker stood still, making no movements while Alex steadied the gun at him.

Could Jess even aim correctly? She thought she remembered all the steps Jackson had taught her, but adrenaline was starting to burn its way through her veins and she'd only just learned today and she'd only had an hour or two of practice and, oh God, what was she going to do?

"Good," Alex smirked at the Joker's raised hands. "Option number one: You hand it all over, defer to me, and I make it easy on you. I let you live, get you a forty percent split of our holdings."

God this fucker was cocky. Jess was holding the full weight of the weapon in her palm, scared to aim it towards the men, but even more terrified of the thought of watching the Joker's head get blown apart. She couldn't lose him, not now, not like this.

This thought spurred her on and she grabbed the top of the barrel, lowering the weapon and using all her strength just to fucking cock the thing. Her hands were shaking too hard to put a lot of power and control into this, but she managed to complete the task silently enough given the situation. She had to be ready, in case the Joker was threatened further. She leveled the sight at Alex's right shoulder.

As soon as she had, Jess's hands began to quiver violently and she bit her lower lip, feeling like she might cry. This was it. This was getting grim. It's us or them. But she was only planning to only put Alex's gun arm out of commission for a while. She wouldn't kill him. She couldn't kill anyone!

But Jackson's dangerous words kept echoing in her head: "Do not, do not, ever aim that weapon at someone you don't fully intend to kill."

She almost retreated right there. This wasn't what she'd signed up for. She'd never wanted any of this! She'd only fallen in love; that was her only mistake. Everything else had been forced upon her by others and that wasn't fair! She never wanted to be a criminal, a gangster, much less a murderer! How could she be expected to act in a way so opposite to everything she'd ever believed in?

But then she glanced at the Joker, whose dark eyes met hers for an instant, smoldering, and she remembered. She remembered why she was here, how much she had changed, how freeing it was. She looked at the man who had transformed her and understood that, if he was worth dying for, he was worth killing for. Saving his life—God, she'd never thought she'd have to save his life—would be worth any price. She loved him, and now he was counting on that fact.

Jess squared her shoulders, still watching carefully, still hesitating.

It was clear that Alex was getting close to shooting, though he was obviously wary of the repercussions of doing so.

"Option two," he said. "I shoot you in the fucking face, take your shares by force, and, uh, hey, maybe get close to that little girl of yours."

The Joker laughed.

"Oh, I don't know if that's a reasonable expectation, Alex." He licked his lips, eyes hooded. "She only likes nice guys… like me." He thought a moment. "Besides, they're just a part of my imagination. So, uh, if you kill me, you might lose half your team."

"What?" Alex growled, getting fed up. He cocked his gun. "Shut the fuck up, clown. You just made your fuckin' choice!"

He raised the gun again, and Jess's world slowed to half-speed, in stark whites and deep blacks and blood reds. She saw the gangster's trigger finger tense, saw the half-smile on her clown's face, saw his deep eyes flick back to her one last time…

The sound of gun fire exploded across the lot, causing the birds in their roosts atop the warehouses to take flight.

Jess stood in shock, her gun falling to her side as the body across the lot dropped to its knees and fell forward. She watched the blood start to seep across the gravel, unnaturally sluggish, and that rushing, ringing in her head was getting louder. She couldn't take this, couldn't even begin to think this one through or accept it.

Accept the fact that she had just shot a man in the back and that there weren't many ways to come back from that.

Accept the fact that, if the gangster wasn't already dead, his imminent exsanguination would drain the life out of him.

What startled her was just how silent he was. Alex hadn't even made a sound before crumpling to the ground, and now he lay perfectly still and unresponsive. Had Jess done that to him? She still felt the heated metal of the weapon in her hand, but she didn't turn to look down at it. The sight of her fingers grasping the gun might make this sink in too far. Things were highly surreal at the moment, and maybe it was better that way.

I didn't mean to.

To what? Stop him? Protect the Joker?

Oh. You meant you didn't mean to actually kill him. Well what did you expect? You shot him in the back. You know how bad your aim is, especially when your hands are shaking. It's not like this should be much of a surprise.

But… I just killed someone.

Yes, you're a murderer. But it was only a matter of time. I think you know that.

That's not how this should work!

But that's the way it did.

Jess was swaying on the spot, unable to rip her attention away from the corpse she'd made, an odd mix of guilt, exhilaration and pride swirling through her. She was slightly horrified to discover that things were still moving in slow motion, which only meant the adrenaline had not yet died down, but it was making it hard to concentrate.

Feeling drunk, unable to comprehend the events that had just taken place, she slowly lifted her gaze to the Joker. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, also looking at Alex's body with an expression of satisfaction. She watched as he smacked his lips and brought into sight the little knife he'd had concealed in his palm from the beginning of this ordeal.

He could have reached out and slit Alex's throat at any time. Why hadn't he? Why had he waited, gone to the brink of obliteration?

He wanted to see what you'd do. (And you didn't disappoint).

Not more than ten seconds could have passed since the gun had gone off, but it felt like a lifetime.

The noise had, of course, attracted the attention of the men in the warehouse, and suddenly the door behind her opened and men were beside her. But she didn't look at them. She only had eyes for the Joker.

He was smiling at her.

What a fucking day…

And it wasn't over yet.

Kind of a radical turn, I know. Review and let me know if it works!

**IMPORTANT NOTE**

Slight change at the end here! Jess does not faint. I explain further in next chapter's AN.