A/N: I'm warning you now for underage, drunken, dub-con making out, which is why chapter 25 follows immediately. I expect that more than a few readers will be highly disturbed by this chapter, but please, I beg that you bear with me and keep reading. There's another author's note at the end.

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"My, aren't you all Gothed out," Jack remarked as he leaned in the doorway of Janet's guest room. She jumped and flushed as their eyes met in the mirror. Her own were smudged with kohl, making her look like she'd been punched and he told her so, which earned him a dirty look. Jack rolled his eyes as he walked to her and started wiping her face off. "Honey, let me fix your make-up," he told her in a nasally whine. "Trust me, you'll look better my way. I put Rachel's make-up on all the time."

"No wonder you're ugly," Janet returned as she settled her fishnet glove-clad hands on her hips. "Her foundation just doesn't match your skin tone."

That made Jack tilt his head back and howl with laughter for a moment. "I meant I put it on her, dumb-ass," he said once he'd caught his breath. "Don't be a brat, or I'm leaving you here tonight." Her eyes fluttered shut as he brought the eye shadow up and Jack licked his lips. Her own lips were parted slightly. It would be so easy to dip his head down, make contact with that sensitive flesh . . . He pulled back and cleared his throat as he applied her make-up quickly, ignoring the small, tight, and strategically torn top she was wearing, ignoring her green plaid skirt that he'd first mistaken for a belt.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he grunted back. "I'm fine."

"I didn't really peg you for a nympho," Janet went on. Jack blinked at her as she opened her eyes and she coughed delicately, placing one hand on his chest and pushing back. Jack looked down at her hand and only then realised that their hips were moulded together tightly; there was no way she was missing his erection and it brought a flush to his cheeks as he jerked away. "I mean, I can't be that attractive."

"You're not," he mumbled over his shoulder, leaning his forehead against the wall. "I just . . . have issues with sex."

She was quiet from across the room. "Issues like what?"

Jack didn't want to discuss this with her, but the kid had the right to know, especially if he was going to adopt her and Susie. So he took a deep breath and didn't turn around as he started talking. "When I was in Arkham . . . when Harleen was my psychiatrist there . . . I needed something other than Batman to focus on, to obsess over. A healthier focus. She, uh, she wasn't . . . I suppose that what she did wasn't the most ethical thing, but . . . well, now sex is sort of stress relief for me. She was always available for me, pretty much. If we fought, she turned it into sex. If I was thinking about pussy, I wasn't concentrating too hard on killing people." He swallowed. "And since Harleen made it clear that I didn't have a chance with anyone else, and then I was with Rachel . . . and with both of them, I was terrified of being thrown away . . . I never really learned to control myself. Not that I was good at self-control in the first place."

Janet was quiet for a few seconds. "So . . . you were kissing on me because you can't keep it in your pants?"

"You throwing yourself at me didn't exactly help," he snapped, then sighed. "All right, yeah, you've got a point. I've got some control issues, and I've been under a lot of stress lately. That makes it worse. I mean, a lot of stress. And I'm trying to control it, but you're so damned willing, and I've just . . ."

"Got a lot going on. I'm sorry, Jack." Janet sounded like she was trying not to cry. "You're the first man that I'd ever liked, and you were so mysterious at first . . ."

"Classic bad boy. That's what Rachel calls me."

"I didn't know," she murmured. "I didn't . . . I didn't mean to make things worse."

Jack laughed a little. "I know you didn't, doll. I know you didn't. And it's not your fault, and I don't want you to be so hung up on me that you're not, you know . . . being a kid. 'Cause you're still a kid. And you should be acting like one, not trying to be all grown up."

"You're bad at these talks," Janet said dryly.

"Well, I've got about sixteen years to get good at them, before I have to say all this to Ava." He blinked at the wall. "Minus the whole kissing me thing."

"All right, let me see if I get this. You've got self-control issues that I made worse, but aren't my fault, therefore I shouldn't feel guilty but I should be a little more sensitive. You also want me to stop trying to be an adult and enjoy my youth more. Is that right?"

"Your summarizing skills are excellent," he confirmed with a nod. "Thanks."

"Well, I can't guarantee that I'll always have good self-control, but I'll try not to jump you. Are we done? I don't wanna be late."

Jack finally turned to look at her and shook his head. "You're a brat, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." Janet smiled and he returned it.

"Okay, we're done. Oh," Jack went on as they walked out of the room, "there's one other thing. It . . . might not be the time to bring it up."

Janet stayed by his side and looked up at him. "Well, you've got me interested, so why not tell me now. Otherwise I'll bug about it because I hate not knowing things."

"Well, then. Rachel brought it up, but . . . look, you and Susie can't stay in foster care forever." Jack ran his fingers through his hair and stopped, turning to her. "And if Mary doesn't . . . well, look, if anything happens, Rachel and I want you and Susie to stay with us. For good."

Janet blinked at him and the half-smile she'd had faded from her lips. Her lower lip started trembling a little as she stared at him and opened her mouth. "A, are you . . . you and Rachel, you want to . . . adopt us?"

With his hand shoved in his pockets, Jack looked at the floor as he rocked back on his heels and nodded. "Yeah. If you want."

"And you're all right with this? I mean, you hate kids."

"Yeah, well, you two kinda grew on me. And then there's the Mitzi-thing, and I've got Ava on the way . . . it's sort that whole, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em thing." He pursed his lips and cleared his throat before swallowing sharply. "So . . . what'd'ya think?"

"What are the chances of Mom coming back?" Janet asked softly. Jack was quiet. She sniffed. "Ah . . . in that case . . ." She took a shuddering breath and Jack wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Thank you so much," she whispered into his chest. "Thank you. I don't want to live with anyone else, and I can't lose Susie, too."

Jack pulled back gently and coughed. He could smell her. "All right, c'mon, we'll be late." He let her take his hand as they walked to the car outside, then handed her in. "How's uh, how's the shooting practice coming along?"

"Good," she said quickly. It was obvious she was glad for the change of subject. "Good. Susie's great with the bow and arrows, too. Charles said . . . she said it might come in handy." Big brown eyes looked at him earnestly and all Jack could think of was how they'd look from a much higher angle, her face pressed into his groin. He rubbed his eyes --- hard --- as she continued. "Are they going to try to take Rachel soon?"

"Sooner than later," he mumbled. He pressed against the door and didn't care if she realised he was trying to get away from her while she fiddled with her skirt as it rode up her thighs. She was all smooth and firm and tender, a complete waste of virgin naivete as far as he was concerned. The thought of her and her little boyfriend, making out under the bleachers and afraid they'd be caught . . . Janet just wanted to feel, to belong, to be normal in spite of her abnormal circumstances, and the thought of some jerk-off boy touching her made Jack angry. He wanted to be her first fuck. Not Hayden. Not anyone. Him. Fuck, and he was willingly letting this temptation become his ward?

Well, he didn't have to adopt her. He might not even make it back. Probably --- hopefully --- wouldn't. She still wanted him. Hell, he could lean over right now and have her, lick her pussy until she screamed, until she was so weak that he had to carry her into the concert hall.

He got a sudden, sharp prod and opened his eyes. Janet kicked him again and this time dug her heel in a bit. "Whatever you're doing, stop. You're creeping me out."

"Are you afraid?" he whispered from behind his hand.

"Does Rachel know you have such a big problem with keeping your . . . man-bits . . . to yourself?"

"Is that a threat?"

"This isn't the Question Game," Janet snapped. He watched the rise and fall of her chest and while it icould/i be contributed to anger or fear, the way her eyes fluttered said that it was desire.

So he shrugged. "She knows I like pussy." The girl flinched at the word and blushed even as she stared him down. Oh, he wanted to make her squeal. It was Jack who shook his head and bit the inside of his lip until he bled. The pain washed over him, calmed him, and he cleared his throat. "All right, maybe she doesn't realise I've been having a little difficulty with it the past couple of months."

"You might want to tell her. I mean, if you lost it and had an affair . . ." She trailed off with a deeper blush and looked out the window.

With her, maybe? He could bury his face between her --- "I've got it under control," Jack said loudly. "Chill out."

Janet gave him a look of such disbelieving disgust that he wondered if she practised it. "Not when you're looking at me like you're gonna do me in the limo! Get a grip, Jack!"

He slumped lower in the seat and lolled his head to the side, still covering his eyes with one hand. He moved his fingers just enough to stare at her. "You'd like it," he whispered hoarsely, breathing deeply and rhythmically. Janet was losing some of her nerve and swallowed sharply while she licked her lips. He mimicked her out of reflex and she looked away. "You'd love it."

"Dissociative disorder."

That threw him. "Huh?"

"I've been reading about it. You black out sometimes, don't you?" Jack nodded once, warily. It was more a shifting of his head than an admission. Janet waved her hand in the air as she tried to gather the correct words. "You're . . . you're like two different people sometimes, especially recently. The Jack I know would run screaming if a girl wanted him to kiss her, right back to Rachel. But you just . . . go for it. You encourage it."

"A lot's happened in eight months," he muttered. She was fascinated by him, falling into that same damned claptrap that almost every woman fell into, of wanting to fix him, of being turned on by the thought of doing a psychopath. She was inexperienced enough to give in, too. He wondered what she thought about when she masturbated, but Jack shook his head again and pressed his cheek against the cool window.

"When's it going to stop?"

"Soon," he whispered. His head hurt, damn it. All he wanted to do was bury his face between her legs and lose himself in that oblivion, lap it up and wallow. Jack's phone was out and pressed to his ear as it rang, as Janet crumpled her eyebrows together in concern.

"Hey, sweety. What's up?"

"Got a headache," Jack whispered into the phone, Rachel's voice unwinding his tenseness. "We're on our way to the concert."

"Already? I didn't realise it was so late. I popped in to the office to grab a file and got sidetracked."

His heart flip-flopped. "Are you alone?"

"No, Helna's with me. Watch her, Helna, she's grabbing the --- oh, phew, just in time." Jack's lips twitched as he imagined the toddler trying to grab everything and put it in her mouth. He had something that Janet could --- "Have you taken any aspirin?"

"For what?" Jack asked.

"Your headache? The one you called to get babied about?"

Jack smiled at that. "Naw, you're medicine enough, baby. How's Ava?"

"Quiet. Healthy," she said quickly, obviously having heard his breath hitch in concern, "but quiet. She's probably sleeping right now."

"Lazy."

Jack's wife laughed as he glanced over at Janet, his gaze sliding up her legs and over the swell of her breasts. Jack blinked and looked away. "Not enough room," Rachel corrected.

"Can I call you after the concert?" he asked quietly. "I uh, I need to tell you something private." Janet was doing her level best to ignore Jack's blatant innuendo.

"Something private?" Rachel's voice rose in pleased surprise. Helna giggled in the background. "Whatever should I wear?" There was more laughter. Jack had loaned Tom a few of his books; apparently Helna had been pleased with the results. The woman said something about cockrings and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Tell her I've got one already."

"My green scrunchy is not a cockring, Jack."

"Makes a great one. I like it when you wear it the next day. I don't care what you wear, but make it good. Invite Helna and Tom over, put me on speaker phone, and we'll all make a night of it."

"No group sex!" Rachel admonished. There was a whistle and Jack laughed. "Helna, stop encouraging him! Look, I need to get Helna home. Tom's working later than usual and she misses her vibrator."

"Oh, well, as long as you tape it, I don't mind."

"I'm not having sex with Helna. Shut up, Jack, I'm going, now. Love you."

"Love you, too," he whispered. Helna was singing that Bad Touch song as Rachel hung up, laughing.

"Feel better?" Janet asked after a few moments of silence.

"Other than a raging hard-on brought on by my wife and her pervy friend, yes, I feel great," Jack said brightly. Janet flushed and looked away again, which made him chuckle. "Too bad you're only sixteen; you have to miss out on the fun."

"I don't want to hear this. Stop it." She raised her hands to her ears and he was tempted to go on, but Jack stopped with another grin. "You're an asshole," Janet muttered.

"Born and bred," he agreed. "So, doc, tell me more about myself. That whole psychology thing."

"I'm not your doctor. What are you doing?"

He looked up from the internet browser on his phone and grinned. "Ignoring your psycho-babble. Looks like Raped by Zombies is gonna sing some stuff from their new album tonight. A song called 'Glasgow Baby' and . . . in Metropolis they sang one called 'In the Trunk.'"

"'Glasgow Baby'?"

Jack shrugged and touched his scars. "It'd be ironic, wouldn't it?"

"To the extreme," she responded dryly, sitting fully upright now that she was sure he wasn't going to maul her. "Look, all I know is what I've Wiki'd, all right? Just don't tell me the Joker was a split personality; that would be so lame."

Jack's smile faded and he turned to the window. "The Joker's not a split personality," he assured her in a low voice. Jack wanted to die and he wanted to scream with laughter. Neither happened as the limo pulled into the parking lot of the concert hall and stopped. The man had the presence of mind to wrap a scarf around his neck and mouth as the driver opened the door for them, and rested his hand between Janet's shoulder blades as they walked to the end of the line. "Lot of people for an underground band."

Janet looked at him from the corners of her eyes, but the tenseness in her back eased when he didn't move his hand. "Ten fans don't get you famous," was her reply.

"Right, it takes at least eleven." He was still staring at her outfit, watching the way her striped thigh-high leggings clung to her . . . and were those garter straps? His eyes unfocused as his heart skipped a beat and his hands clenched into fists as they were shoved into his pockets. Fuck. Her chunky platforms brought her up to almost the perfect height for it, actually, and he wanted to drag her into an alley, push her against the wall, and see if he could make her pass out. Jack lowered his head and tapped his foot impatiently as they waited, looking everywhere but at Janet. She was too busy ogling at their surroundings to notice him much, anyway.

There was a minor hiccup when they presented their IDs to get into the concert hall. The man checking them paused when he saw Jack's and looked at him in surprise. Jack tugged his scarf down just enough to show the tops of his scars and smiled. The man looked down at his list, then reached under the podium he was sitting at and pulled out another list, his gaze flicking up to Jack every once in a while.

"Everything all right?" Jack asked casually. Janet was looking anxious.

"No, no, it's all right." He glanced them over, but since they hadn't worn jackets and Janet wasn't carrying a purse, there was no need to search them. "Go on in."

"Thanks, friend." Jack led Janet inside. There was time enough before the show to get something to drink, so he headed to the bar. "What do you want?"

"I'm not old enough to drink. I thought they weren't going to let us in for a moment."

He rolled his eyes and glared as the man behind them looked her up and down. "You can have soda or water, moron, and I don't know what was up with that, but we're in."

"Oh." Janet shifted as she leaned her elbows on the bar, her back arching sweetly, pulling her shirt up a bit and he wanted to run his tongue from the little dimples at the small of her back on up her spine, his breath making her shiver, wanted to curl himself over her back and kiss her neck as he fucked her. "Water's fine."

"Huh?" Jack shook his head and rubbed at his temples as her words sank in. "Two waters," he told the young man behind the bar. He had things under control. He was fine. Janet was safe with him. He wasn't going to hurt her. Her curvy legs weren't going around his waist, or his shoulders, and they weren't going to get much farther apart than they were now, as she waited for her water patiently, holding a streaked lock of hair between her fingers and looking at the different colours in it. She'd get breathless tonight only if she was dancing; Jack would have nothing to do with it.

"Are you cold?" she asked. "You're shivering."

He rubbed his arms and looked toward the stage. "Maybe a little. It'll warm up when the concert starts." He was under control. Nothing wrong. Control. He sipped his water when it was handed to him and closed his eyes as it slid down his throat. She was wearing vanilla perfume; he liked vanilla. Had she sprayed it on? Or dabbed a little behind her ears, on her wrists? The insides of her elbows? Rachel sometimes even dabbed a bit behind her knees. Where would the scent be strongest on her?

Of course, Rachel put perfume on her ankles and behind her knees, at the small of her back, just to send Jack on a scent scavenger hunt, enjoying the way he snuffled at her skin, nipping and kissing as he went. Janet wasn't --- she didn't know him well enough to do that. Didn't know he liked searching for the next sweet blossom on his lover's body. She wouldn't have done that, just girlishly spritzed herself with whatever cheap perfume Clarie's or Hot Topic had been selling that week.

That thought grounded him and he hadn't even realised he'd been assuming she was trying to seduce him. Maybe he wasn't as in control as he'd thought.

Jack glanced at Janet out of the corner of his eye as he raised his right hand and slid it up his left sleeve, digging his nails into his skin and dragging them down. The pain was sharp enough to cut through the mud in his brain and bring him a little more clarity. He'd have to call Rachel as soon as they got back to the mansion. He was slipping faster than he'd thought he would and he didn't like it, didn't want it to happen like this. Janet didn't need to bear the brunt of his increasing instability, his inability to keep himself under tight control. She was just a kid, for fuck's sake.

But so eager to be a woman. Eager for him to make her a woman. Oh, the fun they could have together, and thank you, Harley, for channelling all his anger and pain into sex, thank you so much, dear departed Harley, you were good for that one thing, at least ---

Jack dug his nails into his skin again and felt blood pool beneath his fingers. His mouth quivered at the pain and he closed his eyes against it. And now, now he was doing things to deal with himself that he hadn't done since Maria . . . he didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember any of this. He didn't want the sex and pain and death to start blending together again. All Jack wanted was to hold his wife and baby girl and know that they were safe, from him and from the world.

Janet tugged on his arm and he jerked his head down at her, still floating on the pain in his arm. "Come on, let's get a good spot."

The hall was mostly a huge empty space with the stage at one end and on the other end, seating areas on two levels. The bar stretched halfway along the wall opposite the door. Everything was painted black, which made sense. Didn't want colours distracting from the band, after all. Jack let himself be dragged toward the front, staring at the curve of Janet's neck and how her pigtails bounced against it, playing peek-a-boo with her skin. He bit his lip. Hard. More people pressed in on all sides of them and Janet leaned close to him to keep from being separated.

"You okay?" she asked when she felt him tense up. She knew he only liked to be this close to people when it was on his own terms.

"I'm fine." It was the truth, surprisingly. He could feel the energy building in the room, fed off of it as he closed his eyes to slits and swayed a bit with the crowd.

The lights dimmed suddenly and in the hot darkness the gathered crowd went wild. Janet squealed next to him and bounced up and down, clinging to his arm as the drum beat started, low and primal. A violin joined in, soaring above and around the pounding of the drums and then a spotlight slowly lit up the figure in frills and leather in the centre of the stage. Her dark blonde hair was down around her shoulders as she started plucking at her guitar, swaying close to her microphone and breathing her low alto voice into it. She started speaking in rhythm, a low and steady rap, letting the music fill her voice.

"Her polished nails twirl matches. Her bare feet kick the ground. My lady sits there smiling, even when she frowns. . . . Find me a lover, who I can kiss from cheek to cheek, and I'll give you another reason that your knees are weak. . . . Her polished nails break flesh, her painted lips are smeared. My lady's striking smile contradicts her tears." She flipped her hair behind her and broke into the chorus, which made Jack choke even as he laughed. "There's my lady, Glasgow baby, sitting on her porch with her Chelsea grin! Cutting for another mile, that Joker sports a sexy smile, makes you worth my time. Let's light you up another, gotta keep on running while we're in. Our. Prime."

Oh, the irony of it was delicious. That his favourite band would have a song all about him, mention him by name! Jack and Janet looked at each other as they laughed; it was really too much. They didn't pay too much attention to the lyrics that followed until the song was almost over.

"I'll go and find me a lover, who I can kiss from cheek to cheek. . . . I promise you, beautiful, I'll have myself another Glasgow baby . . . by the end of the week . . ."

It segued right into another song, one that screamed sex; Elizabeth Tess and one of the men in the band sang it together, their voices low and intimate. Once Jack got past the heavy beat and their panting voices, he was once more in stitches when he realised it was about rainbow smoothies and being sexed by vampires. Raped by Zombies certainly had a way of misleading their audience. He didn't think Janet had figured the lyrics out yet because she wasn't laughing, just swaying to the music and his mouth dried as he watched her hips. She knew exactly how to move to any beat --- of course she did. She was a student of his, after all. But all he'd really done was help her hone a natural sense of rhythm.

She was getting a bit of male attention for it, too. Her own damn fault, what with that short outfit and skirt that made him glad she was wearing full-butt (if sparkly) panties. He eased behind her and pulled her back a bit, making it clear to the man looking at her that she was property of another.

"Take me with ease from my feet to my knees, I will please no one else but myself . . . You are the life-force, the lover and saviour. I offer my soul as the prize. Your cool lips corrupt with a kiss of desire, that would burn with the fire of delight. Take me and save me, I love you, I hate you, a taste then another another another . . . Stretch and taste sweeter each time that you meet her, she's reckless and gives as she takes . . ."

Janet blinked up at him long enough to verify that it was Jack who was holding her, then gave in to the music once more. She wasn't trying to tease him, but as he'd previously noted, her heels put her at the perfect height for it and Jack ground his teeth as he held her shoulders tightly.

". . . I would have more I would drink more I would eat more I would take more I would love more. I'll live more I would give more I would use more, so much more, so much very much more . . ."

He was trembling again and Janet covered his hands with her own, resting her head against his shoulder as she sang along with the one cover song Raped by Zombies had done. It was deliciously repetitive, the beat and rhythm pulling at him, letting him lose himself in it. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but so long as Janet didn't more much more than she was, Jack figured he'd be fine. It was a good thing that Rachel hadn't come with him like he'd wanted her to. There were too many people in too confined a space; as far along as she was, she wouldn't have enjoyed herself at all.

After the concert was over, Jack turned around to see a brown-haired man in a security shirt standing behind him. He raised an eyebrow, noting that the man didn't flinch when his gaze passed over Jack's scars. Janet had pulled his scarf off at one point, wrapping it around her own neck.

"Jack Dawes?"

"Know of any other guy with these scars?"

The man nodded slightly. "Come with me, please. And the lady."

Jack tensed slightly as his eyes narrowed. "I don't think we've done anything wrong."

"You haven't," the man said. "I'm taking you backstage. If you've noticed, Miss Tess is a bit of a fan of yours."

Now Jack was amused and slid his arm around Janet's shoulders. "So, what, she wants an autograph?"

"Your babies, actually, but she'll settle for meeting you." the roll of his eyes and the expression on the man's face said that maybe he knew Elizabeth Tess personally. "Unless you're busy?"

He was still in a good place, feeling almost like he had a nice buzz. "No, not at all. Wanna meet Elizabeth Tess, Janet?"

"You have to ask?!" she exclaimed. Her brown eyes were huge with excitement.

"Guess not. All right," he told the security guard, "lead on."

They were lead backstage and through a door to what was apparently a dressing room. The guard rapped on the open door lightly. "Hollyn? Don't you dare freak out."

"Oh my God! He's here! He's here!" She came running out of another door and Jack's first impression was that she was a lot shorter than he'd expected. Her big blue eyes, looking almost like veined ice, were also as striking as they were in all the photos he'd seen of her --- no feat of Photoshop, those gems. But . . .

"You're so short," he blurted out as she skidded to a halt in front of him.

Those beautiful eyes got bigger. "Is that bad? I'm five foot-one! Well, almost. Near enough, in the mornings! I can put on heels if you want. Oh my God, the Joker's in my dressing room! Can I hug you? Will you marry me?!"

Her exuberance made Jack laugh and he slid an arm around her shoulder, his ego sufficiently stroked to put his own nerves about meeting Elizabeth at ease. "Not bad at all, peaches, and sure, I'll hug you." He oofed a little when she squeezed him as tightly as she could, squealing a bit. "It's uh, it's Jack, by the way. Joker hasn't been around for . . . about twelve years. Give or take. And I'm already married."

"Darn it! I don't care!" She grinned up at him, then looked at Janet. ". . . Hi. Who are you?"

"My foster daughter," Jack said as Janet recoiled a bit. He hugged her against him. "This is Janet."

Elizabeth looked her over, then looked at Jack, then turned a brilliant smile on Janet. "Hi! I'm Hollyn. Only my family and friends call me that, but you can, too. Jason! Get us something to drink! Here, have a seat!"

"I'm not your maid," the security guard said as he leaned in the doorway.

"Do it anyway! I'll tell Dad! Jason's my older brother," she told Jack and Janet as she sat them down, sitting as close to Jack as possible without being in his lap. "I recruited him for security while Henry's sick. My sister's back at the hotel; she whined that the latest album's too emo for her. And my other brothers aren't here; losers think their jobs are more important than my concert. Psh!"

She'd entered full-on starry-eyed fangirl mode and Jack encouraged it with his smiles and interested looks, completely amused at the cult following the Joker had accumulated during his absence from society. Hollyn was full of questions, wanting to know all about Rachel and the new baby (promising to write a song about it), proclaiming her jealousy that Janet and Susie got to see Jack every day. Jason brought them drinks and she mixed them eagerly while he watched.

"What do you want? Rum? Brandy?"

"Janet's not old enough to drink, and Rachel doesn't like it when I do . . . but some Jack and Coke, if you have it."

Hollyn grinned at Janet. "I'll make you my sister's drink. It's coconut rum with pineapple juice and grenadine; you can't taste the alcohol. Come on, it's all good!"

"I tried to name Ava after you," Jack said, just to watch Hollyn flip over it. "But Rachel liked Ava Mirelle more."

"Oh my God, you did?! I love you!" This time Hollyn did end up in his lap, and she covered his face with kisses as he laughed at her. Jason cleared his throat and she guiltly slid back onto the couch, her legs still over Jack's. "Sorry. I'm a little excited. I've wanted to meet you for forever! Did you like Glasgow Baby?"

"Yeah, it was good. I mean, I haven't heard a song of yours that I didn't like." The other band members had gone back to the hotel after a cursory introduction; they hadn't been rude about it, but it was obvious that Hollyn carried the brunt of the obsession with Jack and the Joker.

"Awesome! Oh, I wish I could have met Rachel . . ."

"She's probably sleeping right now, but I'll tell her you said hi."

"Do that!" She was bouncing now, a small bundle of energy. "This is so awesome. Want more?" She mixed them both another drink without waiting for a reply and turned the conversation back to Jack's time as the Joker.

He answered her as honestly as he felt like, depending on what she wanted to know. Even Janet was interested, cradling her fourth drink as she and Hollyn listened with fascination to his version of burning up sixty-eight million dollars.

"I kinda wish now that I'd saved some of it. Rachel and I would certainly never have to work again, and Ava's college tuition would be paid for." Jack shrugged as he watched Janet's eyes glaze over contentedly. She was rocking side to side a bit, too, which meant the alcohol was making her dizzy and she liked the feeling. "I think it's past Janet's bedtime."

"Do you have to go?" Hollyn whined. Jason cleared his throat again as he deliberately started picking up the bottles of alcohol, then she covered her mouth as she yawned. "Do I have to get up in the morning?"

"If you want to make it to Toledo on time, yeah."

A muscle in Jack's eye twitched as he turned to Janet and gathered her in his arms. They all said goodbye, then he was settling Janet into the limo and closing the door on a teary-eyed Hollyn, who was promising that he'd get in to any concert of hers for free.

Janet had laid down once he'd let her go to close the door, and as he settled by her she turned and buried her head in his lap, looking up at him and humming lazily as she smiled. He hadn't really been paying much attention to how much she'd had to drink, and apparently she hadn't, either. That was the problem, he felt, with drinks that one couldn't taste the alcohol in. One drank them like water, or juice, and got trashed before one knew it.

"You're pretty," she giggled as she reached up to tug at his curls. "I want curly hair . . ."

"You're drunk," he said in a teasing voice while her fingers trailed against his cheek.

"I'm . . . no . . . yeah . . ." She trailed off, her eyes unfocusing again, then giggled. "I'd have babies with you . . ."

That made Jack laugh and he took her wandering hand to press a kiss to it. "I know you would."

Janet's eyes widened. "Am I that obvious? Did I throw myself at you? I didn't want you to know . . ."

"No, you weren't obvious, and no, you didn't throw yourself at me. It's all right." He shifted, trying to be subtle about moving her head lower so she wouldn't feel his hard-on against the back of it, and sighed as he lay his own head against the back of the seat. "It's all right."

But she'd scrambled up and was leaning in to him, her face dangerously close as he watched her from partially-closed eyes. "You don't hate me?"

"I don't hate you." He was whispering. Janet laughed and snuggled up to him, aiming a kiss at his cheek but landing it on his ear instead. Jack shuddered and his arm wrapped itself around her shoulders of its own accord.

"You're funny," she giggled again and kissed his ear once more, laughing as he shivered.

"Yeah, but looks aren't everything." Jack was still whispering as he tilted his head to the side, and Janet's next shiver-inducing kiss landed just below his ear. His fingers curled against her shoulder and fiddled with the bra strap he could feel under her shirt, and, encouraged in her clouded daze, Janet kissed his neck again as she rested one hand on his chest. Jack held very, very still. If he didn't do anything else, she might get bored and leave him alone. Too bad his other hand was now on her hip, pressing gently toward himself. He'd trained his students well and Janet moved with the slight pressure, straddling his own hips as she moved her kisses along his neck. Jack had the presence of mind to move his hands underneath her thighs and keep her from settling on him fully. He knew what feeling his erection against her did to a very horny Rachel, and wasn't ready to let that happen to a very inexperienced (not to mention intoxicated) Janet.

"I'm sorry," Janet murmured between kisses, moving her lips to the base of his throat and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He was torn between wishing she was drunk enough to not know that what was happening was wrong and glad she wasn't. "Jack . . ."

She was far enough down his legs, almost to his knees, that Jack felt he could let her thighs go. He didn't want to, though. He tried to make his release of them quick but he knew his fingers lingered, pressing into her skin, because she gasped and trembled, wiggling a bit in the hopes of feeling his hands on her again. Her thighs clenched and unclenched a little and Jack knew what she was doing there, and he had to grab her upper arms to keep from finding out how wet she was. When she'd gotten his shirt unbuttoned and spread open across his chest, Jack thought for one instant that Janet was going to slip between his legs and keep kissing downwards, but even as his entire body stiffened in anticipation she moved back up, finally pressing their mouths together.

He loved the taste of her mouth as she slid her tongue against his, and wondered how she tasted between a different pair of lips. He bet she tasted fabulous. Then again, Jack could eat a woman out pretty much all day and not get tired of it, so he figured he was a bit biased in that regard. Janet's hands were curling in his hair and he grabbed her thighs again, pulling her against him. She moaned with the contact and arched her back, pressing her hips down and against his while he kissed down her own throat, biting gently, pleased when her gasp told him she liked it. His hands slipped up her thighs and pulled her tiny skirt higher, out of the way, and her stomach jumped when he ran his fingers over it. They moved higher until they cupped her breasts, already larger than Rachel's, and Jack squeezed gently as he moved his face down to nuzzle them. Her shirt didn't even cover the top of her lacy black bra, which didn't even cover the tops of her breasts, and Jack slid his tongue along the edges of the lace before dipping it underneath, his lips and tongue working until he'd gotten her nipple free where he could suck on it easily. Janet was making a lot more noise, so he reached over blindly and started the music player, drowning out her cries of pleasure as she thrust against him harder. Jack rolled his eyes up to watch her face as he moved to her other nipple, pinching the first one gently as he tongued her. Her breasts were so much more sensitive than Rachel's and she was watching him even as her eyes tried to roll back in her head, and he laughed against her skin. He'd never been this intimate with a virgin, that he could recall. It was so much fun.

He got tired of her inexperienced movements against him after a while. They didn't provide enough stimulation, and he was a man who liked a lot of stimulation. Verbal, visual, physical, mental . . . Jack slid down until he could roll them both over so that Janet was sitting on the seat and he was kneeling between her legs, pulling them up around his hips and taking a moment to adjust both of them so that he could comfortably rub against her. For her part, Janet clung to him and pulled his face up again, her kiss desperate. Jack was getting desperate, too, as he wrapped his arms around her back. He needed Janet to come as quickly as possible, because every minute she didn't brought him closer to ripping away the psychological barrier that her pretty panties represented and violating her. Jack wasn't a complete fool. He knew full well that he would go to jail if this incident got out, if Janet decided he'd assaulted her and told anyone. If he put any part of himself inside of her, he'd go to jail. He'd be there for the rest of his life and he'd be a registered sex offender, never allowed to see his baby girl, never allowed to hold her, or watch her grow up . . .

If Jack had had anywhere to run to, he would have stopped right then and fled. But in a moving limousine, there was no place to hide. He was stuck and he was damned already, so his best course of action was to ride it out what a bad pun, even for him and get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Fuck," Jack snarled against Janet's breast. He pushed her back and watched himself thrust against her for a moment, then took her hand and put it over her panties. She looked at him in confusion. "Don't you masturbate?" he whispered harshly, panting.

"But I want you to ---"

"No." Her eyes widened and she sniffed a bit, so Jack leaned forward to cover her face with comforting kisses. "No," he said in a softer voice. "No, baby, I want to to watch you do it. I like watching."

She turned redder, if that was possible, and smiled shyly as Jack leaned back again with a smile of his own. She pressed her fingers over her panties for a few moments before sliding them underneath, her eyes fluttering closed and her mouth opening in a small gasp as the slender digits found their way between her sensitive lips and to her clit. She arched her hips up into her own touch and Jack took up his thrusting once again, but more gently this time, just enough to keep himself hard --- not that that was a problem, not when he was watching Janet pleasure herself. She moved the hand on his shoulder to her own breast, which fascinated him. Rachel got too distracted by that sort of double stimulation; she needed to either be fingering herself or touching her breasts. That Janet could do both made Jack dizzy.

He frowned a bit when Janet took her hand out of her panties and pushed at his stomach, but when he moved back even more she went right back to work, and his eyes bugged out as he watched her slide a couple of fingers inside of herself. Damn girl knew how to get herself off. He loved it and he told her so, but wasn't sure she'd heard him. She was whispering his name, though, lost in some fantasy.

Jack couldn't stand it any more and leaned forward again, covering her fingers with his and pressing against her. He ghosted his lips over hers as she whimpered and moved her fingers back to her clit and he felt in need of a fucking medal for not replacing them with his own. He did press into her as much as her panties would allow, sucking on her nipple hard as he grunted with each thrust of his hips against her and his hand.

Janet suddenly threw her head back, her body going almost completely limp before tensing up again, clenching around the tips of his fingers, and she squeaked rhythmically as she finally came. She fucking squeaked. Jack couldn't help but laugh at the tiny, high-pitched bursts coming from that glorious mouth, pulling back to watch the look of abandon on her pretty little face until her orgasm subsided. Then he was holding her, wrapping his arms around her back and waist and nuzzling her neck lovingly.

"Oh, God, Jack . . . I love you," she whispered as she stopped shaking. "I love you so much . . ."

"I know, baby," he whispered back. He stroked her hair and kissed her gently before taking her hand and licking it clean. He'd been right; she did taste fabulous. It made him groan and shudder. "I'm so sorry, baby . . ." He hoped she didn't say a word about this, not even to her closest friends, not even to that fucking diary she wrote in all the time. He didn't want to get in trouble. He didn't want to be kept away from his baby girl. He didn't want Rachel to leave him and take Ava away. He needed his family. He needed them. "I'm so sorry . . ."

But Janet was almost asleep as he gently fixed her clothing and cracked the window, forcibly reminded of Rachel's birthday four years previously. Maybe she'd feel regret once she woke up. Maybe she wouldn't. There wasn't anything Jack could do about it now. He settled her on the seat and sat next to her, bringing his knees up to his chest and holding them there as he fought off the urge to climb on top of her. She was on the verge of passing out, for fuck's sake. He wasn't that much of a monster.

His phone buzzing brought him back to reality after a minute or so and he took it out of his pocket, where it had been on vibrate, and raised his eyebrows as he rubbed his eyes. No, there were twenty missed calls, the most recent from Rachel. What the fuck? He hit '2' for her speed-dial and was assaulted on the second ring.

"Jack Dawes! Where the fuck have you been?! We've been calling you since eleven! Why haven't you picked up your fucking phone?!"

Rachel never swore. Something had gone terribly wrong. Jack's stomach clenched as he tried to think through the lust-induced fog in his brain. "Baby? It was on vibrate. What's ---"

She was beyond furious and he reeled back a bit. "Don't you dare ask me what's wrong, Jack! You get your ass back to Bruce's and on that fucking plane home right now! Are you paying attention?! This is all your fault, Jack! Why the fuck I didn't make you talk with the FBI is beyond me!"

"Rachel!" Jack said loudly. She finally shut up. "Stop yelling at me, damn it! What the hell happened? Are you and the girls all right?"

"Oh, we're just fine," she snapped acidly. "But you just had to send Tom on a little recon mission, didn't you?! You just couldn't go to the authorities with what you knew, and now Tom's in the ICU at Metropolis General! I hope you're fucking happy, Jack! Your goddamn friend might die because of you!"

That made Jack go cold and want to puke. "I didn't send him anywhere," he managed to get out. The limo was reeling around him and he tried not to black out. "I told him to wait. What happened?"

But Rachel had burst into tears and there was a shuffling before a man's voice came on the phone. "Jack Dawes?"

"Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck is my wife?" Jack snapped, suddenly furious that Rachel wasn't on the phone.

"Detective Daniels, Mr. Dawes. You remember me." His voice was cold.

Jack snarled as he hit the floor with his fist. "Yeah, I remember you. Give me to Rachel."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Indeed, Jack could hear his normally level-headed wife screaming obscenities at him in the background. "Lieutenant Fine was dumped in front of the Loleta hospital around ten forty-five tonight. You apparently gave him information on the killer that you neglected to pass on to us," and his voice said he in no way believed Jack had just forgotten, "and he went to check out the address you gave him. He seems to have been ambushed, slashed, and dumped."

Jack stared at the tinted window as he digested this information. Fuck. Now Tom was out of the picture. The limo crawled to a stop and the door was yanked open immediately, Bruce pulling him out as Alfred leaned in for Janet.

"Withholding evidence is a felony, Dawes," Daniels continued.

"It wasn't evidence. I didn't know for sure they were there, and what would have happened if the FBI had been seen sneaking around? They've split, haven't they? Yeah, I bet they're long gone and if Tom had waited like I'd told him to wait, he wouldn't be where he is now. Give me my wife."

"I won't be your wife for long!" Rachel screamed out. Fucking speaker phone. "You better have somewhere else to sleep for the time being, you sick bastard!"

She didn't really mean that. Jack found himself surprisingly calm --- almost numb, in fact. He and Janet were loaded on the plane along with Bruce and Alfred, as well as some boy Jack had never seen before.

"Uncle Charles is with Mrs. Dawes, right?" he asked.

Bruce nodded. "She's meeting us at the airport, Dick." Everyone was glaring at Jack, except for Janet, who was dead to the world.

"You'll be under house arrest when you get here," Daniels was saying.

"My wife just kicked me out of the house," Jack replied.

"Chief Johnson and his wife have agreed to let you stay with them."

He was going to fuck that bitch over. He was going to cut her heart --- no, he was going to cut her pussy out, her whorish pussy, and shove it down her throat. "Fine by me," he whispered into the phone. "Gotta go; we're taking off." He hung up and turned his phone off, staring up at the roof of the plane. He ignored everyone until they set down in Loleta and then he only looked at the small group gathered to meet them in order to find Rachel, but she wasn't there. For the first time since they'd met, Rachel wasn't waiting for him. It hit Jack hard and he didn't look at Jeff or Veronica as he was handed over to them.

Veronica took his elbow to get him in the car and his eyes slid over to her, and he leaned down. "I'm going to fuck you tonight," he whispered in her ear. "Bet Jeff's not gonna be home until dawn."

She shivered. "Shut up." But she liked the thought; bitch still thought he might leave Rachel for her, thought that if Rachel left, he'd take her as a substitute. It would never happen. Let her dream. He needed a knife. Didn't have to be big, just sharp enough to leave a clean cut with little effort. His skin ached for it. Fucking, cutting . . . both provided him with a release from stress, and between his tryst with Janet and this sudden shit, Jack was a man in need of some serious stress relief.

"I want to see my wife," was the only thing he said during the ride to the Johnson's house.

"She doesn't want to see you," Jeff said coldly. "Will you be all right alone with him, Veronica?"

"I'll be fine," she said shortly.

And she would be. Sore, maybe, but he wasn't going to kill her. He needed to fuck her. He needed a warm, willing set of holes to lose himself in. He wanted to have Rachel, but even if she hadn't been mad at him, he wasn't sure he could be gentle with her. So that left the whore in the front seat. Tomorrow he was going to track down Maury and Anita and butcher them. They wanted the Joker? They were about to get him, consequences be damned.

As soon as he'd been shown the guest room and Tom had left, Jack sprinted to the kitchen and started rummaging desperately, finally finding a knife that he could use. Veronica was in the doorway with her mouth open to ask a question, but he ignored whatever she was saying and grabbed her arm, dragging her up the stairs and throwing her into the room before kicking the door shut.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped from the bed. "This wasn't my fucking fault!"

"I know," he mumbled. He'd put the knife between his teeth as he pulled at his clothes, then tore at hers.

"Hey! Stop it, damn it!" Veronica fought back, hitting and scratching at him and Jack groaned, pressing into her nails before taking the knife from his mouth and pushing her down, holding it by her ear as he kissed her.

"Shut up," he muttered. "Just fuck me. You want to. Do it."

Veronica was wide-eyed as he rolled off of her and on to his back, watching her hungrily. Lust won out over caution and she finished taking her clothes off, crawling over him and covering his mouth with her own. He slid his fingers between her thighs until she was ready, then let out a sigh of relief when she finally settled on top of him and started rocking against him. She was watching the knife warily as he raised it, but Jack ignored her. He pressed the sharp edge against his shoulder and hissed as it broke skin, the sweet euphoria making him buck his hips up. Veronica gasped and decided that he wasn't a danger to her, giving herself over to riding him. Jack moved the blade to a new spot and made another cut, then another, and another, until his shoulders and chest were covered with paper-cut-sized wounds. He lost control and came when Veronica leaned forward to lick at the wounds gently, crying out as he grabbed her head and held her there.

She was still sucking at him when he finally passed out from exhaustion.

***

A/N: Still with me? All right. Thank you. I think it's obvious by now that Jack is losing his mind; or, at least, willfully letting himself behave more naturally. He's not mentally stable; he is, in fact, unstable. Violently so. Disturbingly so. No matter how many fluffy bunnies or how much twu wub I put into this story, the fact is that the Joker as The Dark Knight portrays him is a violent, mass-murdering, not-burdened-with-a-conscience psychopath. What's been keeping him sane, amongst other things, is love, a sense of belonging and possessing, therapy, a buttload of medication, and mostly, a buttload of willpower.

What he did to Janet was wrong; it works with the story, but that doesn't make it right. She wasn't asking for it. She didn't deserve to have her trust in her foster father, the man who wants to adopt her if her mother dies, taken advantage of like that. Her being drunk simply makes that worse. I in no way condone what happened, and if any of you, dear readers, have been in a similar situation, my heart goes out to you and I hope you've found safety, support, and love.

I'm saddling these characters with a lot of problems that aren't going to be worked out by the time this fic ends. They will, however, be addressed in the next story; when I start posting it, I'll put up a note here with the link to it. I hope you still appreciate my writing enough to read it. It won't be as dark as this fic.