Her original plan had been to burst into her apartment and take a hot bath while crying for hours on end. The very first part was able to work. She did burst into her new apartment, but that was the extent of it. There on her couch, acting like he owned the place (which he technically did) sat the Clown Prince of Crime himself, The Joker. He had a nasty switchblade out and was examining the blade with his gloved fingers. He barely glanced up at Rachel as she came in, but she could tell from his posture that he was very much paying attention to her. With numb hands she shut the door and forced her self to go and sit down across from him on the coffee table.

"How was your little visit with Brucey boy, Rach?" he asked in a mock-calm voice. Her blood suddenly ran cold and her voice froze. He misinterpretted her silence for guilt and leapt to his feet. His hand grasped her throat and he threw her to the floor. Before she could react, he had her pinned down, the blade in the corner of her mouth. "I trusted you to help me, and not even a few hours later, you're singing all to the cops and that little friend of yours." Rachel trembled beneath him, knowing death was upon her. She closed her eyes and waited for her life to be cut away.

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His arm tensed up, keeping him from running the blade through her face. His other hand tightened around her wrist and a wave of disappointment and betrayal flowed over him. It was a foreign emotion and tears began to sting his eyes, though he didn't know why. Instead of killing her, he only yelled.

"Wasn't I good to you Rachel? Did I not keep you alive, help you through your depression? Did you not enjoy spending time with me? Did laughter not grace your throat for the first time because of me? Why Rachel?" he nearly screamed. "Why would you betray me?" And why can't I kill you? But he did not add that. He could not show weakness here. He pulled her wrist up and violently smashed it back into the floor. "Answer me!"

A sob tore through her silence. She mumbled over and over again, that she didn't tell, that no one knew, that she was still his. He wanted to believe her, but something stopped him. His fingernails bit into her skin and the knife pressed harder into her flesh. She continued her babbling, and her eyes met his.

Rachel was an awful liar and honestly shown brightly in her watery blue eyes. He reluctantly let go of her, and rolled to sit beside her trembling figure. He took a few calming breaths and pushed his green hair out of his face. He'd lost his cool, not good, and worst of all, he had lost his ability to be himself when freaking out. Why could he not kill her? She was potentially a spy, jeopardizing his career, and he held back? He would have to evaluate that. He watched from the corner of his eye as she pushed herself into a sitting position next to him, her limbs shaking and her eyes even more dead than before. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth ever so slightly. He sighed and wrapped his arms around his knees and clasped them together with the knife blade reflecting his scarred visage. He twisted it a few degrees and watched his reflection warp itself as he tried to find something appropriate to say. Social interaction was his weak point. He was a more solitary figure. What to say? What to say? Hmmm...

"So what happened with Brucey?" he asked in a dark sing-song tone.

"Nothing," she whispered, her voice shaking nervously. He sighed and leaned back onto one hand so that he was more on her level. It was hard to talk to someone behind you and he liked to look at the people he was talking with to read them better. His head rested on his shoulder and he peered through the green strands of hair that fell into his eyes. For a moment, he imagined that he was some stylish model trying to seduce the reader, but then he felt the need to stab himself and stopped that line of thought.

"That was some pretty emotional nothing there Rach. So tell me, what happened? Did he figure out your little secret or did he realize that he has no hope with you?" he mocked her. Rachel gave him a dirty look and inhaled deeply before speaking.

"He doesn't know anything, I already told you that, and he still has a chance with me!" she lied. He could see it in her eyes that there was no room in there for Bruce. He had her hooked, poor fool. He wouldn't call her on it though. "He was just so sad and everything. It hurt him... me being away and all." That wasn't true, well not all of it. He turned around completely, kneeling before her. His hand grasped her chin lightly and lifted it so she had to look at him. Her eyes shifted this way and that for a few moments, but eventually she was forced to meet his amber orbs. He tried to project as much sensitivity and caring as he could into his expression, but he had a feeling he was failing miserably. Maybe Rachel would still fall for it.

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Rachel was hypnotized by the sincere concern that she saw reflected back in his warm brown eyes. He looked sad to see her so distressed and she wanted to melt into his embrace to get rid of that pain. Her own hand worked lose of the grip she had on her upper arm and encased his, rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand.

"Come on Beautiful, what's eating you?" he asked so softly it broke her heart. All her barriers fell away and she confessed all as tears streamed down her face. She told how sad Bruce had been, how angry he was at her "situation," how it pained her to know she was going to disappoint him with her alliance, her fears of the inevitable trial.

"Even if we can prove insanity, the jury probably won't grant justice at all. They'll sentence you to death and I'll have lost you forever. I don't want that to happen," she cried as she threw herself into his arms. The Joker tensed up, but hugged her back awkwardly.

"Don't worry Love, I won't let them get me so easily," he promised her. She laughed humorlessly. It wasn't good enough. "Get up," he demanded. "This floor is less than comfortable." He lifted her up and led her over to the couch. Rachel couldn't help but notice that he shook a bit. Definitely not used to the finer emotions in life.

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He needed to get out of here now! Rachel was not a good influence on him. He loved how he felt around her, kind of like how he felt when killing, but it was foreign and strange at the same time. His hands shook and he tried to silence them. Goodness, this was unacceptable.

Rachel sank onto the couch, smiling a bit up at him. She must have noticed his reaction to her. He crouched down in front of her and studied her face for a few minutes. Mascara ran down her face in a way reminiscent to KISS and her hair was affright. It was quite a different sight from the confident vixen he had left earlier. In a way, he liked this version better. She was so vulnerable, open to his manipulation. Trouble was, in this situation, he didn't know how to manipulate her. This was new territory.

"Well, you better now?" She smiled and nodded. "Great!" he said springing to his feet. "In that case, I have to get back to work. I'll pop in later. Remember to take notes. I will expect a detailed report," he warned as he back towards the door. She assured him he would get his report and with that, he bolted out. If this was to continue, he needed to study this interaction more.

A/N: Well, guess this thing took about as long the last one to get done. College essays have been stacking up and whatnot. Hope you enjoyed this. I promise, I will try and update sooner, but I really can't promise anything. Sorry. Please review!