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68. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

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Disclaimer: Thank you thank you thank you to all the readers and reviews!!!!!! You are amazing! I named this chapter for a song by the Smashing Pumpkins. It is amazing and encompasses the overall feeling of this chapter. Enjoy!

I clenched my hands into fists as the Joker tightened his grip on my face. Dr. Crane held onto me tightly, both of his arms wrapped across my chest. I knew this moment would come. I had always known the Joker would cut my face eventually. The look in his eyes told every truth I never knew. He had no feelings for me. He was really going to destroy my face—give me scars just like him.

I knew that squirming within Crane's grasp would do me no good. I had to remain calm and somehow get myself out of this situation—or hope desperately that Bruce would come to my rescue. I knew deep down inside that I couldn't rely on anyone else, though—I had to get myself out of this. I had to be strong.

"Please—don't do this to me!" I exclaimed, trying to twist my head out of his grasp while he smoothly flipped his switch blade. I knew I had a way out—but I had to make him believe I was terrified of him. Believing me to be scared to the point of paralysis was what he wanted, but I knew him all too well. I wasn't scared. I mean, I was scared, but I had to be strong. I would get out of this if it was the last thing I did on this Earth.

The Joker leaned in close to my face as he licked his lips, "There's no turning back now, sweet cheeks," he crooned as ran the flat of the blade across my cheek until it stopped at the corner of my mouth.

Up till now, I had kept my hands and arms perfectly still, lest Dr. Crane realize I had almost full ambulation of my upper limbs. This was now my chance to act. As the Joker slipped the blade seductively into my mouth, I reached behind me and grabbed Dr. Crane in the special place. Then, with one swift, smooth move of my left leg, I kicked the Joker directly in the groin. Crane instantly released me from his grasp and doubled over onto the floor in agonizing pain. I had grabbed him as hard as I could. He would be down for a long while.

The Joker, however, not stunned by pain, but rather enthused by pain, merely backed away from me in shock, giving me just enough time to run. The grin that spread across his mouth as I ran nearly reached his ears. It wasn't long before he chased after me amidst the riot of party guests. I ran as fast as I could towards the entry way. My eyes darted every which way in search of Bruce or someone else I knew and even slightly trusted, but no one could be found. The place was in complete havoc. I knew Bruce had to have made his exit. His reputation couldn't be at stake, lest the GPD show up.

To my dismay, the Joker was quick to catch up to me. His arm reached out and forcefully grabbed my wrist, pulling me back towards him. He then hastily rolled me around the corner of two walls so that the fighting guests were all behind us on the other side of the wall. He slammed me up against the wall and pressed himself firmly against me, leaning his left arm across my collar bone, nearly choking me.

"You see, all it takes is one bad day, Giada," the Joker hissed, his face inches from mine. I could feel his breath hot on my lips.

I turned my head away from him, wishing with all my heart that he would let me go. I kicked him once to get away. There was no chance in hell that would work again. Maybe if I kissed him he would be just as shocked and give me room to run for the door. The entry way was well within visionary field and I could run there in an instant if given the opportunity. I had to do something—say something that would catch him off guard. He was furious, for whatever reason, and I had to somehow bring him down from this, or else my face was going to get mutilated.

"One…bad…day. That's how it happened to me, you know. Someone else…had a…bad day…and I just happened to be there—the perfect victim for a bad day,"

"But it doesn't have to be a bad day—you just had a son," I choked out, just realizing how difficult it was becoming to breathe. "A beautiful little boy,"

"Sh sh sh sh, Giada, sweetheart—now's not the time," he spoke softly, in almost a whisper, directly into my ear. "I've made my decision," stated, his voice low as he pulled his head away from my ear. His tongue fished around his mouth and then moistened his lower lip. With the switchblade in hand, he ran his fingers across my cheek and then down to my lips.

"I always knew you would cut my face—all in due time," I spoke in a half-whisper, as my lips brushed his fingers from their surface. He paused suddenly, caught off guard, but not ceasing to hold me against the wall. "I guess this means you're…predictable,"

I think my words stung him. The Joker wasn't predictable—he was anything but predictable. It was never simple, with the Joker. Bruce knew that. I knew that. Everyone knew that. The fact I had just called him predictable meant that I had ripped apart the very core essence of his very being. While for him it was an unexpected statement from me, it was a divot at him, and that made him very angry.

"I'm predictable," he spoke slowly, playing with his scars with his tongue. A sadistic grin formed across his lips, spreading his Glasgow smile wide. "And while you always figured I would…cut you…in this moment, when it came, you never thought I would actually go through with it; maybe because you figured that when this…moment…came, you'd figured that I'd realize that of all the people I've destroyed, I would never…want…to destroy you,"

I stared hard into his eyes, returning his fiery gaze. I had never seen his eyes so dark and malevolent before this moment—I was his victim. For the first time since I'd known him, I was finally his victim. Or maybe I had always been his victim.

"Then do it. Cut my face. Prove me wrong. Make me the way you are—all it takes is one bad day then, right? Well, what happens when you cut my face and I don't become like you? Then what? Will your purpose be for naught? Will you regret cutting the face of the only person you've vowed never to kill?" I firmly, but calmly asked, unable to make my voice any louder than an undertone.

He didn't speak or move.

"Does it make you happy you're so strange?" I asked, feeling my voice fade as my throat became sore from the strain of speaking.

Finally, he made his move. His left arm that had been cutting across my clavicle, slid above and cut off my trachea. With one swift, clean cut movement, his hand switched his blade and slid it into my mouth.

"One…bad…day…makes us all…a little mad," he said in a low voice, between clenched teeth as he moved the blade to the corner of my mouth. I clenched my eyes shut, but as I did, I hadn't anticipated tears to roll down my cheeks; a sweet release from all the strength I'd mustered up inside to save myself from this very fate.

I felt his face lean in next to mine as he pressed his mouth against my ear, "You'll never know just how much I do care," he whispered as he flicked the blade with one swift motion, slicing through the left corner of my mouth. Just when I felt the pain would never cease, the Joker was ripped away from me.

My eyes flew open and I gasped for air, while I clutched the side of my face he had cut me. Blood ran down my hands and spilled onto my dress. I tried to stop myself from crying, but the tears flowed endlessly down my blood stained cheeks. My face burned in agony as my mouth curled upward in a howling frown, ripping apart the side that was cut. Nothing could stop the pain or my crying—it was an endless catch 22 of agony. The more I cried, the more the pain flowed. I didn't even notice that my best friend Bruce had removed the Joker from me. Bruce as Batman, that is.

The Joker and Batman threw punches and kicks at one another, while I curled up in a ball against the wall. I knew I had to get out—Dr. Crane would certainly be recovered by now and probably looking for me. It was surely my darkest hour. I had endured countless 'darkest hours' in my life, but none of them had been inflicted by someone I grew to love and trust. He was right—I had never anticipated that he would actually cut my face.

Finally, I gained enough strength to rise to my feet. I nearly fell as I stood, wobbling on my high heels.

"Giada, run to the door!" Batman instructed me, as he hovered over the Joker's unconscious body. I paused and gazed through blurry eyes at the love who had just hurt me. "Go! Now!"

I ran towards the entry way to find a limo outside waiting for me.

"Miss Giada, what happened?!" Alfred exclaimed as he helped me into the limo. I shook my head, unable to speak, for the pain was much too great. I spent the limo ride back to Bruce's penthouse sobbing into Alfred's lap, while he comforted me as best he could.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When next I was cognisant, I found myself lying in a soft, white bed; Bruce was by my side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked in a soft, gentle voice. He ran his hand over my forehead and through my hair. I felt dizzy, but I tried sitting up.

"I..." the pain flooded my face with that single letter. I clutched the side of my face and felt the bumps of stiches. My eyes bore into Bruce's.

"It's not nearly as bad as it feels, I promise you that. You only needed a couple of stiches to make sure it heals correctly. It really will be fine—you'll probably only have a minor, barely even noticeable scar once it's healed," Bruce explained, forcing a smile across his face. I nodded silently as I glanced about the room. I noticed the sun was out—it was a new day.

Bruce, reading my facial expression offered me more of an explanation, "It's been a day. We took you to the hospital for them to stitch you up, then we brought you back here and you slept all of yesterday and last night,"

I averted my eyes to the table beside the bed with the diamond choker lying on it. The choker the Joker had given me because I was beautiful enough to wear such a piece of elegance. Ironic that the Joker had choked me later on that same evening. The Joker had been my choker. My heart sank and my face went numb as I recalled the events of that evening. And despite everything he had done to me, despite the I delivered his baby with Pixie, my heart still mourned and sat in the pit of my stomach for him.

The tears came again and I couldn't stop them. Bruce reached out his hand and wiped them away as I silently wept.

"I didn't hurt him—the Joker feels no pain, Giada. Please don't be angry with me," Bruce pleaded, misreading my tears. I shook my head and grabbed lovingly onto his hand.

"I know you're devastated, Giada. You love him, I know. He's fine. He's home—wherever that is...or at least I figure he's home,"

"I want to go home," I spoke finally, trying to move my lips as little as possible.

"Tomorrow," Bruce promised with a firm nod of his head and a small smile.

"No...I want to go home home," I responded, meaning Boston.

"To Boston?" Bruce asked, "To stay?" his face twisted with concern. He knew very well I couldn't keep running to Boston every time something tragic happened to me. I knew this as well. I didn't want to go home to stay—I just needed the beach. I needed to clear my mind.

"No," I shook my head finally, "I need the beach, Bruce," I replied, "It's my refuge,"

"Then tomorrow, I'll fly you out to Boston for as long as you need to be there," Bruce stated, reassuringly. I nodded and reached out to hug him. I couldn't smile, but I knew he knew I would if I could.