A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you had a wonderful holiday and will have a great New Year. Let's hope Heath gets the Oscar! Here's the new chapter, let me know what you think, I love to hear from you!!

Seditionary ; )

Rita resolutely submitted to Robbie's overly-aggressive, wet kisses, waiting for something to stir inside herself. Desire? Excitement? Pleasure? No, that was not happening. What she was feeling was...boredom. Revulsion. Irritation...what the heck did she think she was doing?

Rita made up her mind--this was a thoroughly bad idea. Yes, Robbie was cute. Yes, he was a sought-after big shot at school. And, yes, Rita was tired of being an unnoticed and unpopular nobody. But, this...this wasn't what she wanted.

Would shedding her virginity bring her the confidence she lacked? Would getting Robbie's attention bring her the kind of recognition she craved? She suspected the answer to both questions was a big, fat "no".

She suddenly noticed that Robbie's hand, which had been slowly wandering around just under her right breast for a few minutes, had finally slipped higher, and she flinched when he gave her soft breast a hard, unpleasant squeeze; Rita firmly pushed his hand away. Damn thing came right back, and they had a little wrestling match in which she attempted to wriggle out from under him while he insistently maintained his overly-moist contact with her lips.

Mr. J had advised her to "do what she wanted", and this--giving in to Robbie's clumsy and insensitive attempts at seduction--was definitely not it.

She was just about to try to gracefully extricate herself from his grasp, to gently explain that she had to go home without hurting his feelings, when he nastily slid his hand under her skirt, between her legs, and began to aggressively fondle her private area through her panties.

"Umm, baby, you're wet..." he murmured, pleased.

"Ok, that's it," Rita announced. She forcefully twisted out of his embrace and swung her legs over the side of the bed, launching herself upright onto her feet.

"Hey! Get back over here! What the hell's the matter with you, are you one of those lesbians? " Robbie angrily spat the words as he grabbed for her arm.

"No, no such excuse for you, Robbie! You're just a jerk, and I'm getting out of here. Let go of my arm!"

"Listen, you've been panting after me for weeks, just asking for it, don't act all high and mighty now. Come back here, and I'll give you what you've been asking for..." Robbie's grip on her arm was becoming painful, and he was now attempting to drag her back onto the bed.

"Robbie, NO! Let me go, right now!"

By this time Robbie had risen to his feet as well and was trying to take hold of her other arm. He was forcing his knee between her legs, in an attempt to break her stance and force her down onto the bed again.

In one split second, Rita grabbed the unopened beer bottle she had left on the nightstand and raised it threateningly over her head.

"Stop it, Robbie! Or I'll break this over your head, I swear I will!" Rita was blindly furious, now.

Robbie stared at the bottle, glanced at Rita's face, and instantly released her. He had never come this close to such raw ferocity in a girl before, and he had no doubt she would carry through with her threat if he didn't back off. And Robbie didn't like pain.

"What the hell, you crazy bitch! Fine, get the hell out of here, see if I ever give you the time of day again...."

Still brandishing the beer bottle, Rita hastily grabbed her bag and stormed through his bedroom door, letting it noisily slam shut behind her. She trod angrily down the stairs, and was out the front door before it occurred to her that Robbie had driven her to his house and she was not only too far from home to walk, but she wasn't even sure where, exactly, his upscale neighborhood was.

Numbly, Rita walked until she got to a convenience store and went in to use the phone. She had only a little bit of change on her, and she hated to disturb her mom at work if she could possibly avoid it, so she called Lynne--not that she had either a driver's license or a car of her own, but she would ask if her mom could come pick her up. No answer.

Rita sighed. She dug in her bag and found the scrap of paper on which she had once jotted down Mr. J's phone number. He had told her to call if she ever needed anything. Well....

Jack's cell phone rang, the one he used for "regular" phone calls. He didn't recognize the number, but Rita was out on her date...hmmm. Interesting....with an anticipatory grin, he punched the "talk" key.

"Hello?" he answered curiously.

"Mr. J? It's Rita..." Her voice sounded shaky.

"Ah, the little Margarita person! I thought this might be you. What's up, sweetie?"

"Mr. J, could you come pick me up?" Suddenly, just hearing Mr. J's warm, welcoming voice made a sob rise to her throat.

"Robbie and I...we had a fight, and I walked out. I don't have any way to get home, and I don't want to bother my mom...."

"Aw, peaches! That's rough, listen, where are you?" She gave him the address of the convenience store, and Jack's lips twisted into an amused grimace. "Park Lane? What is this guy, Richie Rich? Maybe you better make up with him, kid, sounds like the family's got some big bucks..."

"Oh, Mr. J, please just come and get me! Robbie's a creep...." Her voice was dissolving into serious tears, and Jack was torn between a chuckle and a note of genuine concern.

"Ok, angel, ok. I'll be right there. Sit tight."

Shaking his head, Jack pulled on a coat, slipped a knife in his pocket, and, whistling, ambled downstairs to his car. He was headed for the classy side of town.

* * *

Rita gratefully hopped into Mr. J's car, and began fumbling with the seat belt. She had been standing outside, not wanting the convenience store patrons to notice her distress, and the fall of night had brought with it a damp, chilly wind. She was now cold as well as miserable, and the warmth and familiarity of Mr. J's sedan soothed her immediately.

Jack regarded her tear-streaked face with alarm. He was mildly surprised to find the alarm to be a little bit genuine....

"Rita, baby! What the hell happened??" he asked, dismayed.

"Oh, Mr. J! It was just awful...." She temporarily gave up on the seat belt, and instead scooted closer to him and buried her face in his shoulder. Jack put his arm around her and pulled her to him.

"It's ok now, sh-sh-sh, tell Uncle Jack what happened....." he encouraged.

"He...well, I guess it was my own fault...I was kind of making out with him...but I suddenly realized, I didn't want to be with him like that! So, I tried to get away, but he tried to force me to stay...and he got really mad at me..." Rita's voice trailed off, her face screwed into a wracked expression of distress as tears again began to slide down her wind-reddened cheeks.

Jack didn't like that, didn't like it at all. It was one thing for him, Jack, to send her into a blushing tizzy of confusion, quite another for some asshole jock to make her cry.

"Tell...me...what...he...did." Jack's voice was suddenly hard and tight, all teasing gone; his eyes had narrowed into sharp slits.

"Well...he grabbed my arm--he left bruises--and tried to pull me back onto the bed, but...I used a beer bottle to threaten him with, and he let me go...."

Jack's expression abruptly changed from dark unease to surprised amusement. He gently turned her face up and regarded her with an appreciative grin of genuine admiration; the image of timid little Rita brandishing a beer bottle at an idiotic, horny teenage boy tickled him to no end. He tried not to betray the depth of his delight, and instead softly clarified, "So...he didn't actually...hurt you, other than your arm?"

"No, he didn't. I just felt so stupid...."

"No, no, no. You weren't stupid. You were living life. Trying something out. And, hey, so you didn't like it. That's ok! You and lover boy there, had a disagreement, but he had no right to treat ya like that. He's an asshole, and I wish to hell you'da knocked some sense into him. I gotta tell ya, Rita Mae, I'm proud of ya!! Not every girl would think to turn a beer bottle into a weapon! You got a lot of fight in ya, babe, and that's good. Way to go, sweetie! Now, let me see those bruises...."

Rita showed Jack the clear imprint of Robbie's fingers and thumb on her upper arm, and he twisted his mouth into a thin line of disapproval. He shook his head.

"So, how far did you have to walk to make that phone call?" he asked, casually.

"Several blocks. He lives on Lindale Street."

"Lindale, huh? Hey, there's a bunch of pretty ritzy joints on that street, show me his house, will ya?"

He drove back to Robbie's street, and Rita pointed out his house.

"Well, would you look at that? Quite the palace, I'd say! And, what do his folks do?" he quizzed her conversationally.

"His dad's a doctor...."

"Yeah? That his car there, or is it Robbie's?" he quizzed, conversationally.

"That's Robbie's, his dad gave it to him for his sixteenth birthday...."

"Ah, nice! Well, that's enough of this crap, huh? Time to go home?" He looked at Rita, satisfied that she was now calm and somewhat cheered up.

"Yes, please, Mr. J. I'm really tired."

"You got it, toots."

Jack drove Rita home. He walked her up to their floor, and gave her a hug before she went in to her apartment.

"Listen, Rita--don't let this get ya down. There's a million jerks like Robbie in the world, you gotta run into a few of 'em just so's you can learn to spot 'em in the future. You're ahead of the game, now! So, don't worry, someday you'll find a nice guy and you'll appreciate him more because now you have something to compare him to, right?"

Rita smiled and gave a little laugh for the first time that evening.

"Wow, Mr. J, you're right. You always help me see the good side of everything. What would I do without you?" she asked, sincerely. She really wanted to cuddle into his arms again.

"Heh, well, don't know about that! But, you go in and get a good night's sleep, angel, and everything'll look better in the morning. Goodnight, now."

"Goodnight, Mr. J! And, thanks for everything...."

"Sure, kid, anytime...."

Jack watched her disappear into her apartment, and ran his tongue over his scarred lips. He stood still for a moment, considering. He then turned and headed back to his own place; he had a busy night ahead of him already, and now he had an extra little errand to attend to. But, that was ok. Actually, it was beginning to look like he was going to have more fun tonight than he'd planned.....

* * *

The Joker put the final touches of makeup on his painted face, rimming his dark eyes with the black greasepaint in a practiced gesture. His blonde hair was tinged with a green wash-in/wash-out coloring. One day, he'd use the real stuff again, but for now he was enjoying disappearing into the everyday world too much....

He slipped on his heavy overcoat, and then his purple gloves, and he pulled open the hinged grate on the heating return vent that led to his secret rooftop entrance/exit. He clambered out of his building and made his way down the side fire escape, to his other vehicle, a panel van, that he used for "work". So much to do tonight....

The Joker drove to 118 Lindale Street, parked in an out of the way area where his vehicle wouldn't be spotted, and strode purposefully to the house that Robbie Maxwell lived in. He silently entered the house, crept upstairs, and determined where Robbie's room was located by the loud music blaring from it. He casually opened the door, and found Robbie lying on his bed, flipping through a porno magazine and drinking yet another beer.

"Why, hello, there," said the Joker, smoothly, a delicate smile playing at his lips.

Robbie stared at him in utter shock. He was more than half drunk and didn't have the presence of mind to move, and when the Joker approached him, he just cowered deep into his bed.

Before he could begin to struggle or attempt to escape, the Joker jammed a hypodermic needle into Robbie's forearm, and firmly held him down as he lost consciousness. He dug in the boy's pants pocket and found his car keys, then slung him easily over his shoulder and carried him downstairs, straight to Robbie's own car. He stuffed him into the front seat like a sack of potatoes, and headed south.

He drove to a particularly ratty part of old Gotham. He parked Robbie's car, got out, and dragged the lad over into an upright position in the driver's seat. He looked around and motioned to a young woman, who happened to be a prostitute, manning her usual spot nearby.

"Hey, Nadine, how ya doin'? In the mood to make some serious cash tonight?"

"Oo, with you Joker baby? My pleasure! You know I do anything for you! You almost make me like dick again! What you got in mind, sugar?"

"See this sleeping beauty here? I want you to stay with him, keep him safe, until he wakes up."

"Tha's it? What kind of crazy-ass way is that to earn a livin'?" she asked, mystified.

"Weeell, there's a little more to it than that. I want you to get him in a nice, sexy, compromising position, and then, guess what, the cops are gonna come by."

"What!! You crazy! I'll get arrested!"

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time, eh? Fact is, you'll both get arrested, and that's the point."

"Oooh, I see. So, you'll cover my bail and court costs?"

"Yep, plus your normal fee, and a nice 'tip' besides. How does that sound?"

"A free meal and a warm bed for the night, and no dick? Sound like a all-expenses paid vacation, to me, honey."

"Good, good. Well, hop in. He should be coming around in just a few minutes. Have fun."

"You got it, J, baby."

"Is LaMarque around?"

"Sure, he always around."

"Think he'll give me a ride back to my car?"

"No problem, I'll get him for ya."

Nadine made a call, and thirty minutes later, the Joker was back in his own vehicle on his way to his next task, which involved the very permanent "firing" of a traitorous member of his team...apparently, progressive discipline had failed to work....

And, Robbie Maxwell was busy having a nervous breakdown in the back of a patrol car, heading for Gotham County jail.

The cub reporter who received the anonymous phone call regarding the arrest of the son of prominent Gotham City physician, Robert Maxwell Sr., on charges of public lewdness was ecstatic. This was the kind of break that made a career, and she was all over the sleazy details, making sure it became a prominent headline in the metro section of the Gotham Times in the very next edition. Where it was quickly picked up by Gotham Cable News and broadcast repeatedly, every hour on the hour, for the entire following day.

Rita was at Lynne's house when the news broke, and the two girls watched in amazement as footage of Robbie, kicking and screaming about a crazy man in whiteface, was yanked out of the police cruiser in handcuffs. Rita wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed that her refusal of Robbie's advances had led to him to resort to such a disgusting and dangerous act.

"Gosh, Lynne, maybe I have more power than I thought...." Rita gasped.

"I think you do! Oh, boy, Robbie Maxwell, Gotham High's most famous john!"

The two girls dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Rita wondered if Mr. J had heard the news yet. He would be so surprised!

* * *

Much air time was given to prostitute Nadine Smith, who managed to parlay the notoriety of her extensive involvement with Robbie Maxwell into a book deal, which allowed her to abandon her life on the streets and buy a cozy little house for herself, her mother, and her seven-year old son.

It was located a few blocks away from Lindale Street.