Tonight, You're Gonna Break Your One Rule

Pain.

The feeling of fire and bee stings shooting through your muscles and digging into your bones is something I'm expertly acquainted with. However this morning, when hot water from the moulding showerhead ran over my battered body, a new kind of pain flooded my system. Last night was our worst fight; I'd lost every inhibition and just became an animal for hours, and the morning after I'd regretted it. I groaned under my breath as I lifted my arms to gently and timidly wash my hair. My lips were split, my nose was severely bruised, my ribs were bruised, maybe fractured, my legs were cut and my whole body was ready to give up.

I think about my Jack, how we'd fallen asleep angry with each other, and woke the same. I'd roused in pain as my Jack shut the mystery door behind him, stormed out of our sanctuary. I had dragged my battered body into the shower, and now here I stood, weakened and tired, and longing for my Jack.

In a second, the bathroom door bursts open and is flung shut again. I watch, paralysed with shock, as my Jack tears off his shirt and boxers, and throws himself into the shower before me. My hands fly to his hair and lodge in the mass of grease green, pulling him closer.

"Mister J..." I murmur as his lips dance centimetres from mine, and our gazes' lock.

"Precious," A second after the words leave his lips, those same, cherry smothered lips are crashed against mine. His weathered hands fall to my thighs, dig into the flesh as they lift them around his hips. I bend my knees as my arms wrap around his neck and his first thrust pushes me back against the cold tiles.

I gasp out into his lips and pull him closer, curling myself into a foetal position around him. One hand is steadying himself against the tiles, as he breath rages through his throat, and the other is digging into my thighs, holding him tight against me. The water is cascading down over our already hot skin, running over my lips as they gasp for air. My chest heaves against Jack's as he grunts into our kiss. It doesn't take long, rough, harsh pushes and digging nails against cold tiles. Soon I'm gasping, screaming into steaming air, and Jack holds me tighter as his raging breath washes over me, until he yells out, digging blood into my thighs. I stay there for a second, exhaling slowly, before I untangle my legs from those glorious hips, jelly legs almost slipping on slick plastic.

I cling to his neck as he holds me close and we breath in sync, "I love you Cally-Rose, my darling, my Precious, my love. I love you. I love our fighting but last night..." He exhales and kisses my forehead, "I just love you so much."

"I love you too Jack, my clown, my life, I love you. I'm sorry I..." My hands wander to his hairline where the dried blood from my glass bottle lay. I touch it and he winces, hissing through his teeth, "Let me clean it up Jack..."

I reach for the shampoo as I pull my clown under the jets, fingers dancing to clean away most of the blood. I stand on my tiptoes as I reach up to wash his hair and his lips part as my fingers massage his scalp.

He lets a little moan through his lips, and I giggle as I pull him under the water. I stand on my toes to wash his hair. He giggles as the water runs clear over his hair, and he pulls me closer. His hands lay on my bruised ribs and I hiss through my teeth, clenching them hard against the stab of pain.

"Cally?" He murmurs at my expression, and I exhale softly, moving from his hand to show him the symphony of black, purple and yellow against my skin, "I'm sorry Precious..."

His fingers grace the skin like a whisper, and even against his soft touch I hiss from the pain. He bites his lip and his eyebrows furrow as the running water tears away our masks, "Cally, I'm going to see if they're broken okay," He lifts his hand to hold my cheek and I nod, readying myself for the pain, "Hold onto my shoulder Precious."

I grab onto Jack's shoulder, tensing my muscles, and feeling pleasure flutter down my neck as my clown's kisses scatter across my neck. The kisses are broken by a sharp pain in my ribs, as his fingers expertly move and press against my skin.

"Jack," I hiss through my teeth and dig my nails into his shoulder, and he murmurs his apology as he stares at my ribs, black and blue, before smiling to himself and placing a soft hand on my waistline.

"It's not broken Cally," He says, smiling at me and I feel my own lips split into a grin. He reaches up with his weathered hands and places them on my cheeks, and I exhale softly as his warmth smothers me, "Are you okay my darling?"

"Sure Jack," I say, pecking his scarred lips, "I have an almost broken nose, slashed legs, and battered ribs. Just peachy baby, what about you?"

Jack giggles and rests his forehead against mine, as our limbs wind around each other like vines and my chest rise and falls in sync with his, "Yeah, split forehead, broken ribs, dislocated fingers and a crushed foot. No matter my darling I've had worse," He seals our reconciliation with another kiss and I grin into his smiling lips.

Maybe ten minutes later when we're scrubbed, clean, and still breathless my Jack and I climb from the shower, and emerge from the bathroom grinning. As I shrug on my underwear I feel my clown's arms snake around my middle.

"Today's the day, Ms. Evans," He murmurs into my ear, and I feel my heart swell in anticipation and excitement. Today was the big bank heist, the job to end all jobs, the one we could 'retire' on, if of course we wanted to. I dress for the occasion, my favourite red patent heels, black skinnies, and a red and black corset style top. The Joker and I, now made up, don our coats and gloves. I smile, pecking my Jack's cheek and leaving a smatter of red on the white greasepaint, before retrieving my gun and knife from where we'd left them last night. I slip my knife into my sleeve and my gun into my pocket, feeling it's reassuring weight against my injured thigh.

Jack presses one last, longing kiss to my matching ruby lips, before leading out through the white room, where the boys were already pulling on their masks. I grin at them all, and we file out, electricity buzzing through the room in anticipation. I follow Pete up the stairs and feel Jack's hand on my waist as I climb them. I follow my boys to the van and climb in next to Pete, grinning at them. The Joker climbs in next to me, and closes the door. As soon as rusted metal clangs on rusted metal an engine is revved and we start our journey to central Gotham.

"Alright boys, here's what we do," The Joker says, pulling on his purple leather gloves, "You and Pixie go in there, make sure no one sees her. Beeline for the manager, he'll be easy sight. Spread out and make sure no one moves when she gives you the word."

The boys nod, and I lean forward, elbows on my knees as they twitch in anticipation. We pull to a stop and I watch the boys pile out the van before the Joker touches my arm and I follow them. I shut the door behind me, leaving the Joker in the van as the boys swarm round me, encasing me and making me feel on the top of the world.

I look up at the marble and gold glory before me, and grin, baring my teeth, my clown and me could bring this grand place to its knees. Walking quickly, the boys and I ascend the steps and enter the lobby of the beautiful building. I spot the manager between Adam and Joe's shoulder, and we walk quickly, my heels clicking on the marble floor.

As we come to a stop I make to step forward, but as I do, Pete and someone else pick me up by my elbows, and for a moment I feel like I'm flying as I move forward and my feet are placed inches from the managers, clicking on the stone. As I'm set down, heart welling from the sudden rush of emotion and adrenaline, I pull my gun from my pocket and place it under the man's chin.

"Hi there," I say sweetly, hearing and feeling the boys crowd round me as murmurs rush through the crowd, "Don't move."

I see his clavicle move as he swallows his fear, and grin predatorily, baring my teeth, "Go for it boys," I murmur, and the familiar symphony of dress shoes on hard floor echoes. Screams and protestations echo off expensive walls, but are soon quietened as guns are aimed at civilians as they are backed against walls.

The slam of the front doors splits my predatory grin into an altogether more innocent one as I hear my clown call, "Precious?"

I glance over my shoulder and push my gun into the man's chin, forcing his head up as he stares at me with fearful eyes. I grin at him as I turn back, and call over my shoulder as theatrically as I can, "Oh, Boss! I got you a present!"

The Joker's shoes echo behind me, and he comes to stand next to me, our grins wide and real, "A bank manager, just what I'd always wanted Precious!"

I laugh a little under my breath, and as he grabs the man's lapels I move away. I see a fire exit and a man trying to crawl, unnoticed towards it. I clench my hand around my gun and decide to give the man a chance, "Don't move," I say, loud enough for him to hear, but he carries on, slowly reaching for the handle. The gun leaps to life in my hand and I shoot him in the arm. He soon falls away from the door and whimpers, clutching his arm to his chest. Murmurs ripple through the room and softly, I hear my clown laugh.

I stop a few metres away from the door, and survey my charges, huddled on the floor and against walls, eyeing me with a fear and disdain I revelled in. I look at my fear filled crowd and grin, five businessmen, a mother and child, two women, and an older looking woman that looked hauntingly familiar to me.

I try to figure out who the hell she is, as I hear the soft murmurs of fear and laughter behind me, whilst keeping up my veneer. I take two small steps forward towards the woman, who is sat slightly apart from the group, but closest to the door. She is hugging her knees to her chest with small hands, and her ice blue eyes are dancing around the room. I frown at her, where did I know her? Why was I frowning? Where was my grin? Were my hands shaking?

I couldn't tell.

I heave a lungful of air and tighten my grip on my gun to reassure myself. The woman looks up, and her ice blue eyes lock with mine, the exact same colour and shape. The same raised eyebrows and nose, once the same curved lips, "Mom?"

Her breath fails as her chest caves from shock, and her voice comes quick and quiet, "Cally-Rose?"

In that instant I forget. I forget everything I've learned in the last nine years, I forget prom night and blistered feet, then I forget Gambol, Jess and Cassie. Then I forget my clown and his knife in my mouth, then my scars. I forget laughter and chaos and the biggest raid in history. All I remember is my mother, her warm smell and how much I've missed her. I move forward and crouch in front of her, forgetting. She reels back from me, and I frown a little.

"Cally-Rose?" She's breathless, shocked as am I, and she frowns at the stranger in front of her, "What's happened? Is that you?" She exhales and looks over my shoulder at the Joker, "Him? Oh, darling, what's he done to you? That man? That criminal thug, that psychopathic freak?"

I curl my lips, how could she say that? My own mother! My hand tightens around my gun and I rise from my crouch, eyes fixed on the woman in front of he. Her own mouth is twisted into a sneer as she stared at me with such disgust. Anger and fright wells into my throat and forces my voice out into a quiet whisper, "No. No, don't say that! Be quiet. Shut up!"

"Oh, my baby girl, what's he done to you?" She shrinks back against the wall, eyeing the gun clenched white in my hand, "You're the one in those videos with him? You did that?" She exhales shakily, "You're a killer... a murderer. You're a monster, Cally-Rose!"

"No!" My hand flies of it's own accord and before I know it, my shoulder muscles are being shunted from the kickback. The gunshot had exploded around the room, and screams followed and smothered the deathly silence that came with it. A scream leaps through my throat out into still, shocked air, and I drop my gun at the feet of my mother. Blood soon envelops the gun and fills my nostrils.

I freeze. I don't hear my clown's voice, Precious? Precious? I don’t hear Adam, or Joe calling out. I don't hear the soft trickle of blood. I don't hear the crowds yells and whispers.

Then, as acid and panic fills my brain, I run.