#heathjoker

The Joker came to see Annie often now. Sometimes he came and took her immediately, entering the apartment and bringing her into his embrace so quickly she could feel the cool night air clinging to his purple jacket. At other times he would come in, eat whatever he found on the counter, and talk to her about something he'd seen that day, or lightly interrogate her about her experiences in Gotham.

Sooner or later, they always ended up in each other's arms. He seemed to study her, learning every little reaction from the surfaces of her body. His attention was an unusual luxury, a precious thing that she treasured. But as a person used to finding protection in hiding from the outside world, she was also a little unnerved by his level of understanding of her thoughts and desires.

He was more difficult to understand - so much of him was hidden from her. But anything she noticed that made him call out or catch his breath, she would remember it for him. There was always the possibility he was leading her in the wrong direction on purpose, with his gift for deceit, but generally she felt that he was very straightforward with physical intimacy, almost as if it made more sense to him than other everyday interactions. Maybe because it was more direct, more genuine, more natural.

As the time passed, Annie seemed to adjust to her new reality, balancing out some of the habits of her old self and the newfound freedom she felt when she was with him. He was able to coax her into speaking more often, and she took on the daily tasks that were required to provide life's necessities.

After their first nights together, he had quickly overhauled her limited wardrobe. He must have waited until she was sleeping and then removed every scrap of clothing from her closet. In their place in the morning she found a hodgepodge collection of short skirts, heels, and strappy things - halter tops and backless shirts. Her new underwear seemed to provide decoration more than concealment. Though he wouldn't tell her anything about it, she strongly suspected that his friend Genevieve was somehow behind the choice of clothes. Annie was really quite lost with it all but obediently wore whatever she found there. She had her jacket for going outside, so it didn't matter too much to her what she wore inside. And he seemed to delight in it, finding a hundred ways to take the scant clothing off of her when he visited.

On the day it happened, he walked into the apartment with a distracted look and drew out his knife, alarming her. He extended his arm into the air and then brought the knife down into the cheap countertop, puncturing the poorly made plastic laminate. The force of it caused his hand to slide down the blade, giving him a terrible cut over his palm. He didn't cry out but simply pulled up his arm and looked at the blood oozing from the wound, until she brought a towel and wrapped it around his hand.

She had a hard time staying calm and figuring out what to say, but she finally came out with a shaky "What happened?" as she held the towel firmly over the cut. He looked up at her and then dug into his pocket, bringing out a roughly torn piece of newspaper. She unfolded it as best she could with her free hand and read through the beginning of the article.

The Gotham Gazette Vol LXVIII, No. 23

Mayor Harvey Dent finally scored a victory against the infamous Joker today when the largest arms seizure in Gotham history resulted in the confiscation of six freight cars worth of weapons this morning. Everything from ordinary pistols to military-grade weapons and grenades were found.

Since the food crisis and supply chain disruptions, a nationwide shortage of weapons has been an issue for police and criminals alike, so this large-scale seizure puts the odds back in favor of the Gotham authorities…

She sat by him that evening, making sure his hand stopped bleeding and quietly comforting him, knowing it must have been a devastating blow by his unusual silence. Secretly she hoped that fewer weapons might mean less violence - his obsession with fighting the authorities and tearing down the rules of society was not a passion she shared. But in a world where the backbone of the community - the police, the government, and the law - had largely abandoned her, she didn't feel any sense of guilt or a moral dilemma in comforting him after his loss. This was something about her conservative rural upbringing that did stay with her. The focus on one's own family and the disregard for the outside world, for good or for ill, made her well-suited to be the Joker's companion. Although the hesitation of the women of her isolated community to question the men's actions had often infuriated Annie when she was growing up, that habit had also ingrained itself into her personality and probably contributed to her acceptance of his position as the head of Gotham's criminal empire.

The next day they were on the bed and he was absentmindedly stroking her cheek with his fingertips. She moved to get up and he pulled her back immediately, returning her to exactly the same position, and he continued his repetitive caress. She was probably wise to decide to simply stay where he placed her. He did this more and more often after the weapons raid, seemingly distracted, his eyes focused far away. Sometimes while he was sleeping she washed his shirt and pants by hand, hanging them up to dry in the shower, to maintain some level of cleanliness, as he seemed to be letting himself go much more than usual. But his energy and passion for Annie, if anything, grew stronger, and it felt like he must be escaping from the frustrations of his days in her embrace.

Now he entered the apartment like any other day, but she soon noticed that something was off. He was preoccupied, agitated. He hung up the purple jacket and took off the gloves deliberately, with much more care than usual. She wondered if there was some new development in the shortage of firearms. She had heard his men talking in low voices about their growing weakness in the face of the police and the rival gangs of Gotham.

But when he walked toward her with his jaw clenched and his mouth curved into a subtle smile, she knew that it must be about her.

"It turns out that my kitten has been very bad," he began ominously. "I found out she wasn't the only one who wanted to leave her Church. There were others, but they didn't get out. Kitten did. She left them all behind without a backward glance." He said it in a sing-song voice that contrasted with his menacing expression. "How did she do that?" He wagged his finger at her, a half smile raising one side of his messily painted mouth.

"You know, it's so unusual for someone to be able to escape from the Church. And a woman leaving, no one ever heard of it before you, Annie."

As soon as he had mentioned her past, she stood unmoving, not appearing to even breath. She just stared at him with wide eyes. "I was suspicious early on, when you first told me about it, and I sent one of my men up there to your little town to investigate you. I almost forgot about it, but he got back to me today."

He came closer, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. "I can't find anything else out about you and your deal. It looks like all the officers and lawyers who worked with you ran away or seem to have been assassinated by your little organization up there," he said, tilting his head to look at her with a sidelong stare.

"I have a theory. I think maybe she spread her sweet little legs for that upstate DA." He put his knee between her legs suddenly, forcing them apart, almost making her fall. "Why don't you tell me about it?" He paused, regarding her terrified face.

"I don't mind, you know. You understand what it takes to survive. I respect that. He was a young man - but maybe not as pretty as Mayor Dent, hmm? Was he a nice lay?"

When he was met with only silence again, he moved over to hiss into her ear, "Tell me about it."

Her mind was racing. She wanted to forget all about that time, and to have him bring it up now brought back her pain, her guilt after taking the deal and leaving the others trapped there.

"Yes, he was a nice lay," she said, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.

He had been running a hand through his disheveled hair but paused immediately when he heard her words. There was a shift in the room. She felt like a hiding animal whose camouflage had suddenly disappeared.

"He was a nice lay? Oh kitten, you're lying," he said, rolling the words slowly in his mouth so they fell with a deadly weight.

He nodded his head, stepping back and surveying her with his merciless eyes. He drew his arm back and slapped her, hard. She hadn't had time to shield herself, and the blow landed squarely on the side of her face. The sound of it echoed in the sparse room. She collapsed to the floor, holding her mouth and tasting blood.

He took a step toward her and grabbed her hair, intertwining it messily in his fingers and using it to pull her to her feet. She cried out from the sudden pain. She still had her eyes closed, trying to keep her head from spinning after the sudden impact of the slap, when she heard the sound of the blade extending from the knife. Her eyes snapped open and her focus stayed on it as he dragged the flat of the cold metal blade lightly over her shoulder and settled the sharp point in the hollow where her neck met her chest.

"Your heart is beating so fast, kitten - I can see it here."

He had miscalculated if he thought a threat of force like the knife was something that would make her share her secret. But maybe he wasn't threatening her as much as he just wanted to see the sharp blade on the soft skin of her neck. Maybe he didn't really know what he wanted at that moment.

In the flurry of thoughts running through her mind, she suddenly realized that holding something away from him like this gave her a rush of pleasure. He knew everything about her: how she thought, the dynamics of her body, what every touch would do to her. But here was something he didn't know.

He used his grip on her hair to tilt her head up to face him. A slow smile formed on her lips. She had some scrap of her life that was hidden - it seemed to give her a small amount of control, and that little bit was intoxicating to her.

"I thought I just found a little fallen angel there on the ballroom floor, but you're much more than that, aren't you?" he said, regarding her strange smile and the remoteness of her icy stare. "I should have known, with the way you looked at me. Those sparkling eyes. You couldn't stop looking at me, could you?"

He retracted the knife and turned his hand to let it drop to the floor. Holding her head steady with his grip on her hair, he pressed his lips to hers. The movement of his tongue mingled with the blood in her mouth in a luxurious warmth as she returned his kiss. Her dizziness after the jolting slap only made it more mesmerizing - she felt she was floating. He drug his hand around her hips to the front of her thighs and pushed up the short skirt she was wearing.

The shock of what had happened made her feel unsteady, but her body adapted to him, listened to him.

"Ok, I'll let you keep your secrets, kitten," he murmured in her ear. She leaned on him for support and he held her securely.

"I'm feeling so generous today," he said, a lustful tremor beginning to show itself in his voice. He let go of her hair and she heard the gentle ting of his belt buckle hitting the long watch chain. He brought his hands behind her and pulled her close.

Author's note: [spoilers!] Don't be mad! Forgive me, remember he is the Joker. You have to give him a little bit of a break, Dent took away all his toys.

It is probably a little bit messed up that if I could ask Heath Ledger's Joker to say any of the lines of the story so far, it would be "Oh kitten, you're lying." :)