Body Count

It was like coming out of a short-lived coma. Shane was coming out of her shell more and more every day, eating with the goons whenever The Joker decided to bring food up from his stash - Shane was sure she remained the only one who knew about it, as she often heard murmured complaints of hunger and mistreatment - and she ate more, too. She started gaining back those healthy lost pounds, filling out a tad more so she looked less muscular. She could still feel that strange new strength in her extra sinew, but it felt more at home when she had more fatty foods to surround it with. She went outside more often, taking in the sunsets and sunrises, lying on the dirt and gazing at the sky all day. She even went for regular swims, going down onto her favourite outcrop of rock and diving into the frothing water below. The drop was smooth, fairly short, and refreshing. She never bothered with a change of clothes. She could walk around in just a jacket and nobody would bother her, because they wouldn't know that the only other bit of clothing she wore was an extra long white t-shirt of Cliff's. Clothes dried fast, and she was usually able to get them back on before the evening chill hit. Every other day, her three goons joined her in her wading regime, paddling back and forth along the cliff face.

After a week of this new and welcome routine, Shane was feeling alive and well again. She found she could think of her father with only a touch of grief coming to her - she knew, now, that he was much better off without her. Inwardly, though, she was determined to find a way to tell him that she was fine and would always be thinking of him. He deserved that. As the final hours of the day wore thin, Shane was scrambling up the edge of the cliff and onto the patch of bare rock she'd cleared away to put her clothes on. Today Cliff had been kind enough to lend her one of his cleaner shirts, and Stone had thrown in a pair of swimming trunks that dried fast. Keeping on the dripping shorts, she threw the jacket around her and did it all the way up so she could change her top in some privacy. With a handful of soaking wet purple t-shirt and dry black shoes, she was just about to walk back to the warehouse when the door creaked open.

The Joker was making his way towards her, wearing what Shane thought of as his 'casual wear' - everything he ever wore, minus the jacket and gloves. His hair was oddly slack today. More greasy. She stopped and dropped her bundle. Waited.

He walked purposefully through the blinding orange glow of the sunset, his arms swinging, his feet hop-skipping every third step. As he got closer, she heard him humming.

"Dum dee da ... da da de doo ... hmm hmm da-doo ... evening, Princess," he said, jumping to a halt in front of her. "Swimming, again?"

She nodded, and droplets of water splashed down from her sopping wet purple and green hair. "The water is getting colder."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Well, I have to do more work to keep myself warm ... and that makes me stronger."

"You're thinking like one of them," he said, pointing spasmodically back at the warehouse. "Like you need to ... no." He waved the topic aside. "Never mind. That's not why I came out here."

Remembering, for the first time in quite a while, that he liked to abuse her when she spoke back, Shane said nothing.

"Let's ... sit, shall we?" Shane shrugged, and followed when The Joker made his way over to the edge of the cliff and jumped onto the outcropping she used as a diving board. She slid down beside him in a cascade of dirt and rubble. "I'm going to make this easy for you to understand, okay, Princess?"

"Okay," she said uncertainly. She shivered as the sun began to disappear over the horizon.

"You remember ... a couple of years ago ... a little fire on the Federal Bank?"

Shane stiffened. How could she not remember it? The fire, the smoke, the screaming ... none of it had ever left her. "Yes," she said tensely.

"That was me."

Shane couldn't help herself. Her head whipped around so she could glare at him, her lips pulled back over her snarling teeth, a feral growl ripping out of her throat. She felt like an animal, facing it's prey. She'd never felt this way before - indeed, she thought hazily, had any human being ever been so close to becoming an animal before?

And then his speech continued.

"It was a little tiny bank robbery gone a little bit wrong," he said, holding his thumbs and forefingers close together. His voice rose and fell sharply. "One of the clowns I had inside the vault room set off quite a ... an explosive alarm system. It set off both branches of the bank."

Shane remained silent, her lips now shut tight, her hands trembling.

"Of course, I was the first one out of the building ... I think most of my hired men burned," Shane was revolted at the way his voice caressed the word. "I was on the other end of Thorne, Princess. Just at the other end. I watched your father while he was dying. I listened to your screams ... they made me feel ... so good," She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. "I stayed as long as I could ... watching you bent over his body, your hands and chin covered in his blood ... your pretty little face ruined by those tears ... your father reassuring you, perfectly healthy little Shane, crying and shouting ... but no ... no. He had to comfort his baby ... sua bella ... even though he was the one who was dying."

Shane didn't try to force the tears back, but she turned away from him, afraid that the glow of the setting sun would throw them into sparkling relief.

"I didn't care, Princess. If the police hadn't been on their way, I would've stayed all night and watched you both die. And then I would get a good, long night's sleep after ... you weren't important ... you were nothing. Oh, how your screams made my day ..." This time, he shivered, and his eyes shut briefly as his head tilted back in memory of the pleasure. "But Shane," he said, opening his eyes slightly and looking sideways at her. "If that happened ... now, I would pull you out. I wouldn't have watched. I would have acted! Act on impulse ... that's what I always say. And that night my impulse was to enjoy the pain. If I had known you then, I would have shut you up and dragged you home ... wherever home may be," His head turned and lowered at the same time, and he looked up at her through half-closed eyelids. "It's a good thing you survived that night."

Shane didn't care to think about why her survival had been fortunate. She didn't want to hear that. Not from The Joker, not now. Not after what she'd just found out.

It had been his fault Jess could hardly pick up a briefcase. His fault that he grimaced every time his arms wrapped around Shane. His fault Jess was permanently mangled.

All the grief she'd been slowly healing over the past seven days rushed back to her, sending fresh waves of fury and tears forth, making her grit her teeth in an ugly grimace. There was no sound other than the rapid beating of her heart, and the hissing tide of anger in her veins.

She opened her eyes.

The Joker was still sitting next to her, still staring, grinning as though he'd just won a battle.

And she punched him, her fist coming in full contact with his highly breakable nose.

After she'd heard the satisfying crack of shattering bone, she got to her feet and was out of sight by the time The Joker finally forced himself over the cliff's edge. His hand was covered in blood, hovering in the air before his face, but Shane never saw the smile grow wider as he walked back to his office. And she never heard his words, either.

"That's my girl!"