Tonight, You're Gonna Break Your One Rule

I wake with cold sheets next to me, and for a second I panic, where am I, what am I doing? Until I roll over onto my back and carefully, slowly take in my surroundings. I was in the hideout, where I always was, where I always will be.

I run my hands through my hair and swing my legs down onto the floor, flexing my toes on the plush carpet. I blink long and hard, and become acutely aware of the water running in the bathroom. I rise from the bed and quickly get dressed, brushing my hair through with my fingers.

I make to go for the bathroom door and see the billows of steam slipping underneath it. I hear the soft breathing of my clown on the other side, and simply listened without him knowing I was there. I hear him chuckle under his breath and my lips split into a grin. I rap one knuckle softly on the door before slipping through, just as I see Jack wrapping a towel round his waist.

I smile softly as he turns round, and I see his wide-eyed innocence as I caught him by surprise. I step closer, as does he, and the steam swirls round us, twisting and billowing through my hair and dampening my skin. I watch the trickles of water spill down his chest and into the towel and he licks his lips before splitting his childish, happy grin towards me. We're standing close, but not touching, and I can feel the electricity buzzing between us. I slowly lift my hand towards his face and brush the pad of my thumb across his right scar, earning another grin. I place my hand on his cheek and bring him in for a small kiss.

"Morning Precious," He whispers softly as we pull apart, before he leans in for another sweet kiss. He wraps his damp arms round my shoulders and pulls me in, and I trace patterns on his chest as he presses our foreheads together and I feel his steamy breath on my cheek.

"Morning Jack," I chirp back, before leaning for another sweet kiss, "I'm just going to get some breakfast, do you want some?"

He shakes his head softly, "I'm not hungry darling. I'll get some later," I simply not, not needing to say any more, Jack and I had progressed past the need for words, I thought with a smile. I walk away from him slowly, letting our hands slowly drop from each other, and I send him a quick, small and coy smile before slipping from the door.

I almost skip towards the hallway, and then the kitchen, happy and content today, looking forward to our big bank heist, happy from the ache between my legs. I open the door to find the table surrounded by four or five men.

"Hi, uh, Pixie... yeah?"

"Yeah," I say with a small smile, hovering at the door as I scan the room. I see Adam sat at the table, smiling up at me reassuringly.

"I'm makin' a coffee, you want one?" A man stood at the counter says, and I smile at him, feeling a little more comfortable, "Sit down.."

"Yes please, black, two sugars? ...Thanks,"

Someone pushes a chair out to me with their foot, and I take it gratefully, sitting myself warily on the edge and leaning my elbows on the table, watching, waiting. A minute later a steaming coffee is slid across the table towards me and I wrap my hands round it, grateful for it's warmth.

"Thanks, uh... I'm sorry," I say, laughing a little as I look up at him and feel a little blush across my cheeks, "I don't know your name..." I look around, "Any of your names, except Adam of course." I smile at my former gang mate.

"I'm Joe," The man who proffered my coffee says, gesturing with a hand to his chest. The man next to me chirps his name as Ty, and the man the other side of me murmurs his name as Pete, with a warm smile.

"Hey everybody..." I take a sip of my coffee and stare at the cup, "I'm glad we can talk you know..."

Pete and Ty chuckle good-heartedly and they all agree, and we sit for a while drinking our coffee. I swirl my coffee around in my cup, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and realising how truly hungry I was, but how I really couldn't be bothered to get up and make anything.

I thought about rushing back to Jack and spending every waking moment with him, but as I think about rising, my heart swelling at the thought of my clown, Ty clears his throat, "What's your story, Pixie? You seem way too nice to end up here!"

I cough into my hand and settle myself back in my chair. There was nothing wrong with widening my miniscule social circle and making some friends. I smile sweetly, "Well you guys sure seem like monsters!" I say jokingly, "What're your stories?"

"Well," Pete says, leaning forward on his elbows, "Me and my brother were runaways, we found work from The Joker one day. We were robbing a supermarket and he came up to us, scared me absolutely shitless but we got a job and a place." Pete smiles at the thought, "My brother's called Chris, I'll introduce you sometime, he's a bit of a recluse though!"

I nod quickly, listening raptly, craving attention and stories and life. I laugh and look at Ty, needing more, "Hm, I can barely remember my life before this bunker. My parents were... I lived in the Narrows, I became an... orphan when I was seventeen, and went looking for trouble. I found the Joker," He laughs a little, "Never looked back I guess."

I smile, "That's the way to do it I guess Ty, no regrets..." I turn to Joe, the remaining man, who is reclining back in his chair and watching us all with a bemused smile, "Go on then, Joe, your turn!"

"Well," Joe says, chewing his lips carefully, and talking in a slow, calm manner, "I got a wife, and a kid, uptown in a little apartment... I don't see 'em... But I send money and ring nearly every day... I guess I wish I could go home a lotta the time, but no job pays like this one..."

"I'd love to meet them Joe... though I think I'd scare them a little!" I say softly, gesturing to my scars, "But I'm sure I could get you some more nights off, believe it or not the Joker has a miniscule amount of compassion when you put it right..."

I earn a smile from my new companions and take a sip of my now cold coffee, pulling a face as Adam nudges me with his elbow, "Go on then Pix, tell us your story, even I wanna hear!"

"I'm only tellin' what you know, Adam," I say, chewing my lips nervously, "Sorry, but my past is... not nice, so, uh, I'm keeping it secret... Sorry,"

"It's okay Pix," Adam says softly, touching his fingertips to the crook of my elbow, and human contact makes me jump a little, before I take a deep breath and calming myself, "S'fine, we understand, don't we guys?"

Murmurs of agreement are said softly and reassuringly, and I tighten my knuckles around my coffee and stare resolutely at it as I start to speak, "When I was fourteen I ended up at a townhouse, full of mobsters. I used to work for Gambol, you know him? I did for a very long time, got friends, like Adam, and I was happy, but then the Joker stuck his nose in," I feel guilt rising into my throat of speaking so coarsely about my clown, "He killed Gambol in front of us, kidnapped me and brought me here. I hated him, so much, then..." I sigh softly, "Things happened, he ended up carving my cheeks like a pumpkin on Hallowe'en, and well, to be honest, I lost it. I went crazy, and now, hm, I don't mind it so much I guess... I'm having a good time and I don’t think I'll ever leave..."

I see smiles, unscathed and true, and I see friends and I smile. We sit and chat about nothing and everything, and the way of life in the hideout strengthens our friendship, all for one, one for all. One by one my new friends stand and exit the kitchen with a smile and nice comment, leaving me and Adam sat in our comfortable silence.

I shiver involuntarily from the chill, and Adam slowly and softly pulls me into him with an arm round my shoulder. I hear his breathing rise and fall, and I can sense he's a little uncomfortable. Our silence grows a little colder, until Adam inhales sharply, "Do you love him?"

I furrow my eyebrows hard and tense my muscles against Adam, "Of course I do Adam."

He exhales the breath he's been holding and tightens his grip on my shoulder, so I can't flare up at him and move away when he asks, "Why?"

"You wouldn't understand Adam..." I exhale, wondering how I could put my soulmate into such frank words to a friend I wasn't so close to anymore. How I could tell him of my Jack without telling him at all, "There's so much more to him, Adam, you really wouldn't understand."

"Well, try me." Adam spits, "Tell me what happened in those months you were alone in there... I won't judge you, nor him, it'll be secret."

I exhale softly and close my eyes, maybe it would be better to tell this to someone... "I hated him. I really, truly did. But something about him captured my interest, I was so curious... He put me in my place, he beat me, treated me like shit... Then, well, I found out his real name, a little of his past, made a remark that pushed him over the edge and he gave me my scars..." I exhale once more and feel Adam's fingers dig into my shoulder, "I... withdrew, I guess. The more time I spent with him the more I turned into him, I lost it completely... The one night, we fought, and... well, we ended up... you know..." I blush furiously and Adam urges me to carry on with a small smile.

So I do, I pour my heart out to my old friend, tell him the highs and lows, but I don't tell him of Harley. My Jack deserved his privacy, we deserved ours. I kept our biggest secrets to myself, but spoke of how I didn't think I could put my feeling for my clown into words. We talk until my throat hurts, until we shared everything and he feels like my best friend once more.

We talk until I see the door open, and catch a curve of green hair and a purple sleeve. I push Adam away and sit forward, eyes wide, "Come on, Precious," He murmurs darkly, "Get back in there."

I cross my arms across my chest and frown a little, "Why Mister J? I'm happy here. I'm talking,"

"No. Precious. Come with me," He spits through his teeth, but for some reason, my strings aren't pulled by my clown puppeteer today. I wanted to sit with my friend and talk like normal people. I missed friends.

"Fine."

The doors slams and reverberates through the flimsy walls and his heavy footsteps echo. I feel apprehension rise up my throat and through my veins, God knows what I was in for when I return. I sigh heavily and realise maybe it would be better to go now before he gets too angry, "Maybe I should go, sorry Adam." I rise quickly and press a kiss to Adam's forehead. He mutters me a goodbye and I quickly scurry back towards the bedroom.

As I slip through the white room, I check my knife is in my sleeve, and take another one from the shelf just in case, sliding that into my other sleeve. As I slowly push open the door to the bedroom a flurry of movement makes me jump. The door closes behind me as I look down the barrel of a gun, a white face contorted with anger behind it.

"Jack..." I breathe as his chest rises and falls with exertion and anger. I realise he isn't going to move the gun, and I quickly move forward, grabbing the barrel and twisting it up, before throwing it to the side. His free hand flies forward and hits me straight in the throat. I gag and splutter as he forces me back against the wall, and I bring my knee up between his legs as a jerk reaction. He falls back and I push past him, not wanting to fight. But a weathered, white-tipped hand grabs my leg and pulls me down. I fall flat on my face as his other hand grabs my wrist, stops me from breaking my fall. I rap my nose against the floor and roar with agony.

I hear laughter spill from his crimson lips as I lift my head from the carpet, woozy from the blood spats across the plum carpet. Rolling onto my back I bring the heel of my foot against the Joker's chin, pushing him away. I was pissed off now, blood running down my nose and past my lips, anger coursing through me.

I crawl forward quickly and press my hands against his throat, the drops of blood from my nose falling onto his face. It takes him a second as I laugh softly, until he grabs my hair and pushes me to the side. I scream as he pulls on a handful of my hair, scrambling up and pulling me up by handfuls of crimson. I laugh in his face, spitting blood, and he roars in anger, throwing me away. I regain my balance and stumble back against the desk. I find an empty bottle and grasp it in my clenched fist, before moving forward and smashing the bottle against the side of his face. Blood sprouts from his temple and he pushes his fist towards my cheekbone. I feel the skin split and blood sprout, and quickly lash back with a kick to his knee.

He falls down on one side and I grab a handful of his blood-soaked hair, pushing it backwards into the wall over and over until I'm sure he can see stars, mouth twisted in anger. He reaches behind him, fumbling blindly, and his knife leaps to life, slashing across my thigh. My leg gives way a little and a yelp punctuates my laughter as I fall to my side. The Joker takes the opportunity to tackle me onto our battered and broken sofa, pinning me there with his body and a knife to my throat.

"You're mine," He spits, a hand either side of my head, pulling handfuls of my hair from the roots.

"You can't control me!" I spit back, arms finally finding strength to push the Joker away and onto the coffee table. It breaks underneath him and as he finds his feet on the opposite side I tear a broken leg away from our old table. I curve my fists round splintered wood and swing like a baseball bat; into ribs I feel crack beneath me. He roars and falls back, before reaching up and pulling the weapon from me. The wood splinters through my hands, leaves shards embedded in already battered hands, so blood runs down my fingertips onto the carpet. I snarl and automatically try to pull the larger ones out, as the Joker clambers up.

He pushes us back, hands hard against my ribs, digging into shadows. I feel my back presses against the wall, but he keeps pushing, until I feel a left rib crack softly, pain arcing through me as my back involuntarily bends. I bring my foot down hard onto his and it crunches beneath me.

As he twists away and yells laughter harder I grab the hand that cracked my ribs, pulling the last two fingers rough and bend them backwards against his hand. He woops in laughter as I push him away. He holds his dislocated fingers in his other hand and laughs, trying to regain his breath as I too do the same.

I slowly let my knife slip into my right hand, but the Joker is watching me closely, and before I can even react a knife is thrown at me, pinning the sleeve of my top to the wall. I grit my teeth and tear my shoulder away, the blade lightly cutting my skin.

I exhale and hiss through my teeth, clenching my muscles, eyes and fists at the pain barrier, before moving forward, hands flying toward the Joker's throat. He's stood too, feet strong against bloodstained carpet, and his hands are at my throat.

Backwards and forwards our rage falls as we struggle with hands at each others throats. My back slams against the wall as I feel the Joker's fingers press their otherwise lovers caress against my main artery. I inhale and bring my knee up against his stomach, using the extra force to push us back against the bedpost, my fingers now digging bloody crescents into his neck the same way I had done only the night before.

Blood was running down my skin and my ribs were fractured in a few places, my ankle was crunching and my nose was bloodied and bruised. I was tired, exhausted. As I rip my hands from his throat and throw my body towards him, my Jack does the same and we fall to the side onto the bed. My consciousness slips as my weakened body hits the mattress, and I fall in rage next to my lover as my body fails where my mind longs to fight.