A/N: What a lovely surprise! I updated! For those of you who read my profile, I said I wouldn't update until mid-November because of school and exams, but I couldn't help myself. I felt bad that it had been so long, and so here we are. That being said, there will definitely be no more updates until mid-November! For those of you that stuck around, thank you! For anyone new, hope you like what you see :)
Responding to some reviews:
CrazyPretty: I'm not really sure on this count. I haven't yet decided whether he's just keeping Bells around because she's amusing. This definitely won't be turning into a love story though, maybe more of an obsession.
Fox1212: Thanks so much! Remember to check my profile if I haven't updated in a while :)
Lady Ravanna: As always, your reviews are perfect and inspirational. I can't wait to hear more metaphors!
Happy reading!

12

Bells sat up with a gasp, looking around frantically. The world lurched and she was thrown into a wall, landing with a hiss on hard metal. It was very dark, but she could hear the rumbling of an engine. She was in the van, then. Her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, Bells felt around cautiously, ignoring the steady discomfort of her still throbbing shoulder. Her hand found a grip, a loop of rope hanging from the side of the van and she hung on, pulling herself slowly up to her knees. The van went around a corner, and Bells gave a pained squeak as the movement strained her shoulder into a strange position and her legs went out from underneath her.

'Still can't believe he fucking bit me,' she muttered under her breath, pulling herself back into kneeling position.

'Lets not be rude.'

Bells supposed she should have known she wouldn't be left on her own, and she strained her eyes, trying to see through the darkness to find the Joker.

'Where are we going?'

'Just a little trip to the hospital.'

Bells spotted his outline in the corner of the van, barely making out his dark form.

'The hospital?' she asked dryly. 'I didn't realise you cared so much about my wellbeing.'

She heard him laugh.

'Oh it's not for you,' he giggled, and she coloured.

Stupid.

'Right,' she said slowly. Bells decided that she would rather not know what they were going to be doing at a hospital, and decided to change the subject.

'Got any water?' she asked casually, trying to sound as though she wasn't absolutely parched and gladly would have done anything for even a sip. She heard him rustle around and the crunch of soft plastic.

'Catch.'

'Wha- Ouch!'

Bells was cut off as a plastic water bottle glanced off of her forehead and fell into her lap. She sighed, hearing the Joker laughing again, but was grateful for the water. She still felt slightly dizzy, and her head swam as she unscrewed the lid of the bottle. She raised it up to her mouth, giving an annoyed grunt as the van braked suddenly and the lip of the bottle clashed against her teeth. Righting herself, she tipped her head back and took a long swig from the bottle. The water was lukewarm, and Bells wondered how long it had been sitting in the van. She decided she didn't care as she continued to drink. She swallowed the last sip, let the bottle fall to the floor, and sat back, still clinging onto the rope. Idly she realised she hadn't cut her nails in a while as they cut into the calloused and scarred skin of her palms. Her eyes finally adjusting to the dark, she made out the Joker sitting in the far corner away from her, his feet propped up on a cardboard box of bottled water. He was looking at her. Something was different about him, but she couldn't quite make it out in the dim interior of the van. She squinted at him, and with a start Bells realised that he wasn't wearing his grease paint.

'Why aren't –' Bells asked, before closing her mouth, her teeth snapping together with an audible click. The Joker glanced at her, seemingly amused, before brushing a hand over his cheeks. He wasn't wearing his gloves.

'This is a very covert operation, Bells,' he said, drawing out the s with a hissing sound. 'It wouldn't do for a nursey to see me and go crying to the po-lice, now would it?'

Bells shook her head, unable to read his mood in the dark.

'Sorry, what was that? It's rude not to answer question when they're asked. Didn't your mummy teach you manners?'

'I shook my – I mean, no. That wouldn't do,' Bells said quickly. 'But, wouldn't the people at the hospital recognise me? I was treated at Gotham General.'

'You get a disguise too!' the Joker said gleefully, and she saw him gesture at her midriff. Looking down, Bells realised that she was no longer topless. Thinking back, she reflected that she had been topless for a good proportion of the day. Dimly she wondered why that didn't bother her. She was wearing a button up shirt, possibly a cast-off from one of the smaller members of the crew. With a sinking feeling, she reached for the hem and flipped it up. Sly was written messily in black ink, smudged and faded with wear. She had discovered Sly's habit of writing his name on the hem of his shirts a few days previously during an inadvisable game of strip poker.

Bells sat at the table, leaning back on the creaky wooden chair and absentmindedly wondering whether it would snap while she was still on it. In her hands was a hand of cards, a rather good hand if she might say so herself. She grinned, as always unable to keep a poker face. In front her sat Striker, and next to him Specs, a gangly boy seemingly straight out of adolescence, so named for his affinity for technology and the wire-framed glasses that sat on his pimpled nose. Holding her cards in one hand, she pointed at him.

'What did you do to get here? Little young, aren't you kid?'

'Who are you calling a kid?' Specs demanded indignantly, pushing his glasses up on his nose and accidently showing her his (terrible) hand in the process. Sly, who sat beside her, chuckled and Bells grinned at him.

'You are a kid, kid,' grunted Striker, frowning in concentration at the cards he held in front of him. Specs sat back in his chair, annoyed. He clearly didn't want to answer the question. Bells decided to let it drop. Touchy, she thought.

Several rounds later, Bells sat smugly and comfortably clothed, grinning at the men around her, all in various states of undress. Of all of them, Specs had the most damage, having lost his shoes, socks, shirt, and pants. Bells was trying to avoid looking at his bony chest, covered as it was in cigarette burns and cuts that looked as if they'd been made with a serrated knife. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sly shift uncomfortably, clearly not happy about the fact that his shirt was on the table, rather than on his chest. She glanced quickly over at him, and he coloured, shifting his arms on the table. Was he embarrassed? Bells risked another look and resolutely decided that he had nothing to worry about. Sure, he was on the slim side, but she liked her men wiry. She had never enjoyed the bodybuilders at her high school that her friends fell over themselves to talk to. They were boring. Sly wasn't bad looking either, if you didn't mind the greasy hair and unfortunate cargo pants. She rested her elbows on table, flipping a card between her fingers – the jack of spades. She wondered where all of the joker cards had disappeared to. There were none of them in any of the packs. She wondered if the Joker had decorated his room with them, and suppressed a chuckle at the thought.

Giving the game up as a bad job, she threw her cards onto the table, tsking when one landed in the folds of Sly's bunched up shirt. She reached across him to grab it, pausing when she saw a black smudge on the hem. She flipped it up, ignoring Sly's reluctant noise, and couldn't help but let out a giggle.

'You name your shirts?' she asked him incredulously.

'It's logical!' Sly protested indignantly with a touch of embarrassment. 'Everybody's shirts end up together and this way I can find them easily…'

He trailed off, and Bells felt a slight touch of remorse, exacerbated when she heard Specs let out a small laugh which he quickly stifled.

'I know, I know,' Bells conceded. 'It's just so, I don't know… so unexpected.'

'Polite way of saying that only kids do that,' smirked Striker. 'Or their mothers.'

'Shut up,' said Sly stiffly, and Bells realised that she had stumbled upon an issue that had clearly been brought up before, to general amusement. She patted him on his bare arm.

'There, there. I get it. You must be the only halfway intelligent one here,' she said consolingly, unable to stop herself from thinking about how strange it was that she was reassuring a member of the Joker's murderous crew whose feelings she had hurt. How strange her life was.

A tear slid down Bells' nose, and she wiped it away angrily, flipping down the hem of the shirt with as much force as one could flip down the hem of a shirt. She heard an amused snort and realised that in her reverie the Joker had taken the opportunity to crouch in front of her. Forcing herself not to scramble away, Bells leant back slightly under the pretext of rearranging her legs underneath her.

'You get that he had to die right?' the Joker asked conversationally, settling a palm on her knee and patting it reassuringly.

'Yeah,' Bells murmured. 'I get it.'

She shifted. It had been a long time since the Joker had touched her without gloves – not since the early days of him grabbing her. There had been a poker game then too, Bells reflected, a wry grin curling across her face, twisted by her fading scar. The Joker tapped his fingers, drumming out a little tattoo on her kneecap. In the dim light she could barely make him out. It was difficult to read his mood when she couldn't see him. She shifted again, a little uncomfortable.

'How's the, ah, wound?' the Joker asked. Bells could make out a hint of excitement in his voice and it alarmed her. She couldn't place the source of it.

'Bit better,' she said slowly, subconsciously reaching up to touch the bandage. She started as the Joker snatched up her hand with tight fingers and held it up to his face, turning it this way and that, as if examining it for faults. She looked at him, a slight frown on her face as she attempted to figure out what it was he was after. The Joker pinched the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger, watching her to see her response. She narrowed her eyes at him.

'Ya know what, Bells?' he asked conversationally, now holding her wrist tightly.

'What?' she replied slowly, slightly suspicious.

'You're fun to have around. I haven't had this much scandal in the crew since you decided to join us.'

He grinned as Bells bit her lip in an attempt to stop herself from scathingly retorting that she hadn't in fact just one day decided that the life of crime was the one for her. But lately she had begun to realise that she probably couldn't honestly say that she didn't want to be where she currently was. Bells looked up at the Joker as his peroxide green hair swung across his face whilst the van veered around a corner. He was looking at her intently, his head tilted slightly to the side. She felt his free hand slide onto her jean-clad knee and Bells couldn't help but shiver at his proximity. A low, familiar fire was building in her belly, and she decided that it wasn't her fault if her body reacted this way. It was human instinct, and it was the first time she had seen him without his makeup. Bells had been right in her assumption that he was attractive; he was, devastatingly so. His jawline was hard and strong, matched with high cheekbones that could cut glass. The only mar to his features was the twin scars that curled over his cheeks from the edges of his stained red lips – but even those she was growing used to. She could hardly talk, anyway, considering her less-than-perfect accessory courtesy of the Joker's knife.

Without realising, Bells had fixed her eyes upon the Joker's scars. The Joker seemed to grow still, and slowly brought her hand up to his cheek with a surprisingly soft grip. Bells' eyes widened as her fingers tentatively touched the scar tissue, surprisingly hard and ridged beneath her fingertips. The Joker slowly released her hand, but Bells didn't move hers. Looking at him intently to gauge his reaction, she slowly ran her fingers down his scar, bringing up her other hand to match the movements on the other. The Joker let out a shudder and seemed to lean into her touch. Bells tried to stay calm, but couldn't help but feel a little excited – perhaps he needed her, too? Just perhaps? Looking back later, Isabelle couldn't believe how naïve she had been.

Bells let her fingers softly touch the corner of the Joker's lips. His eyes flew open and his hand closed around her wrists with crushing force. The fire in her belly built as he looked at her with narrowed eyes. Bells didn't say anything, unsure how to interpret this new mood. Before she could react, he wrenched her arms upwards against the wall of the van, and, holding her wrists in one hand, looped the rope she had clung to when she first regained consciousness around her wrists. He released her, and Bells found herself hanging from the roof of the van in an awkward semi-crouch – too high to sit down comfortably, but too low to stand. It put a painful pressure on her arms as she attempted to find a comfortable position. Before she could, however, Bells found herself pressed back against the wall of the van, the Joker crouched between her knees. He was grinning at her, and she glared back.

'I like you like this,' the Joker purred, the only way Bells could describe it.

'I'm not sure I'm a big fan,' she replied haughtily, trying to ignore the tingling fire that was accumulating in her core.

The Joker smirked at Bells. He could see she was trying to hide her pleasure at the position he had put her in, but even in the dimness of the van he could see that her pupils had dilated. He sat back on his heels, watching her as she shuffled uncomfortably. That whole business with the scars and the touching had appeared to work well: he had seen her smile slightly as he forced himself to lean into her touch. This was child's play. She was so easy to manipulate.

Bells started as the Joker put his hands on her thighs, his nails digging into her skin even through the denim jeans she wore. He leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers and she could feel his breath against her lips. She suppressed a shudder of desire as his tongue flicked out and drew a line across her parted lips. Bells leant forward into the Joker, trying to get closer to him despite her arms being bound above her head. The Joker let out a throaty chuckle and moved away from her lips, and Bells was startled by the whimpered mewl that she emitted at his sudden distance. Before she knew it, the Joker's mouth was at her neck, kissing and nipping his way down to her shoulder, Bells' eyes flying shut at the heady sensation. His teeth closed briefly around her collarbone, and she let out a small moan. She leant into him as his fingers found the buttons of her shirt, making quick work of them. Bells shivered as the cool air hit her exposed nipples, hardened by desire. Before she could process it, his mouth closed around a peaked nipple, his tongue dancing circles that made her cry out before she could stop herself. A hand settled roughly on her other breast, and the fingers deftly pulled and tweaked in rhythm with his tongue and teeth on the other. She arched her back, pushing into him, internally cursing at the bindings on her wrists.

'Fuck,' she groaned, and the Joker laughed into her, the vibrations doing wonders.

Her eyes had fluttered closed, but they flew open again as she felt the warm fingers of his free hand settle onto her lower stomach lightly, causing her to shiver in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers crept down to the waistband of her jeans and slid underneath. Bells cried out as his nimble fingers found the neglected nub and tweaked it as he flicked her nipples. A familiar fire was building in her core and without thinking Bells flung her legs around the Joker's torso, trying to get closer.

'Untie me,' she panted, arching her back.

The Joker looked up from his ministrations, eyes glinting with what looked like amusement.

'No,' he said, smirking infuriatingly.

'Please! I just want to t- Ooooh,' Bells moaned as he interrupted her request by slipping a finger inside of her, one thumb still working her clitoris. The Joker chuckled throatily as her eyes slid closed, and he slid a second into her. Bells was in rapture as he hooked his fingers, hitting her pleasure spot, and she moaned again. He continued to work as she strained against the bindings, her wrists becoming raw as they chafed against the coarse rope. The Joker bit down on her nipple whilst flicking the other, working in synchronisation with his fingers and thumb. Bells couldn't even form a coherent word as waves of pleasure wracked through her body, her thighs tightening around the Joker as she attempted to find something to hold to. The fire inside her was building, and Bells cried out as the Joker replaced his thumb with his tongue, fingers still caressing her inside. His teeth closed gently around her nub, and Bells unravelled. She threw her head back, legs clamping around him and arms straining against the ropes. Pleasure rolled over her in waves, and the Joker continued in his ministrations, drawing out the climax. He pulled back as she let out a half-scream, legs shaking and sweat beading her forehead.

The Joker watched Bells become limp, slumping into him as her legs lost their hold around his torso. She was breathing heavily, held upright only by the ropes he had tied around her wrists. He was aware of his own arousal as he pulled away from her. Bells' eyes fluttered open, and she was looking at him carefully through the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She looked as if she was about to say something.

Bells stared at the Joker, trying to process what had just occurred. She opened her mouth, but closed it again resolutely, deciding that the best course of action would be to not question what had just occurred. She definitely wasn't going to complain. So she asked the next question that came to mind.

'Can you please untie me now?'

The Joker regarded her with his head tilted to the side. Slowly, a grin spread across his face and he began to laugh. Without the greasepaint she could see the way his eyes creased when he laughed, the small dimples that disappeared into his scars. She began to smile herself, eventually dissolving into giggles.

Without warning, the van screeched to a stop and Bells was thrown into the Joker, yanking painfully against the ropes and pulling at her bandaged shoulder. The Joker stopped laughing and growled, pushing her away as his mood suddenly changed. The door of the van slid open and light poured in, causing Bells to squint. The Joker jumped out onto the road, leaving Bells hanging.

'Uh,' she said, 'Does somebody wanna-'

She stopped talking as Striker clambered into the rear of the van, coming forwards to free her. He pulled out a mean looking knife, and quickly cut the ropes. Bells caught herself as she fell forward, wincing as circulation returned to her arms.

'Thanks,' she muttered, rubbing at her wrists and inspecting the ring of raw skin that encircled them.

'No problem,' Striker grinned, climbing out of the van and holding up a hand to help her down, which she ignored. She clambered out stiffly, muscles protesting.

'Really I should be thanking you,' Striker continued, still grinning, 'I got quite a show.'

Bells coloured, 'You heard that?'

He nodded.

'Uh, well… Where are we?' she changed the subject. She looked around herself, noting that it was only she, Striker, and the Joker that appeared to have arrived. They were parked in an alleyway, and at the end she could see cars driving past, the siren of an ambulance blaring. The Joker was leaning against a wall, muttering to himself.

'Gotham General,' Striker replied, pulling equipment out of the van and tossing a hooded sweatshirt at her. She caught it deftly and pulled it on.

'Why we here? And where is everyone?'

'Planting bombs is a small job.'

'What?' Bells cried, spinning around to glare at the Joker. Striker grabbed hold of her shoulder but she angrily shook him off. She stalked towards him, fists clenched.

'Why the fuck are we planting bombs in a hospital?' she growled, waking the Joker out of his contemplations.

'Oh, blackmail, you know? Bit of this, bit of that,' he replied, not looking at her.

'Innocent people, Joker! You can't just kill innocent people!' Bells exclaimed angrily.

'Yes. I can.'

He slowly turned to look at her, but she held her ground. Innocent people for fucks sake! Invalids!

'No, you can't. How is killing innocent people part of your plan! You want Batman, fine! Climb on to the top of the MCU and fire up the fucking Batman-shaped spotlight! If you think I'm going to help-'

Bells was cut off as the Joker grabbed her chin roughly and slammed her into the wall. She winced as the concrete pressed into her shoulder.

'Firstly, Bells, you are going to help. Secondly, I said it was blackmail. They'll get plenty of time to run away and those who don't get out in time should have run faster. Thirdly, if you question me again I will break your neck.'

Bells stilled, remembering Sly and Peyton. The Joker looked at her, tongue flicking out to the corner of his mouth. He was breathing heavily.

'So… you're not going to kill everyone?' she asked timidly.

'Well, not everyone. I'll give 'em a head start,' the Joker grinned, letting go of her. He seemed to be in a better mood after a good bit of threatening. Bells supposed it had a calming effect. She watched as Striker threw a sweatshirt over to him, and he pulled it on, pulling the hood over his recognisable green curls and shadowing his face. Striker did the same. Bells thought it was perhaps going to be a little suspicious when three hooded people meandered around a hospital carrying a large backpack, but she let it go. The Joker was the criminal mastermind in this operation, not her. She was just a tag-along.

'Ok,' sighed Bells, pulling the hood over her face and tucking her hair in. 'Let's go plant us some bombs.'

She giggled.

How do you think the Joker was this chapter? He's incredibly difficult to write believably, so I'm always up for constructive criticism. Follow and review, it'll really make my day!