Unholy Union

CO-WRITTEN WITH MELISSA

CH 2: Treading Dangerous Waters

When Maggie nudged the door open with her foot the next morning, she couldn't tell where the tangle of sheets ended or J began. They were all one coiled mass, and it wasn't until she moved closer to the bed that she found a few green-brown squiggles of hair across the lower left corner of the mattress. She sat the tray on the bedside table and pushed at the lump closest to the wiry hair, assuming it was shoulder.

He jerked to attention and writhed in the smothering sheets, like one lost in a boa constrictor's embrace. Maggie laughed softly.

"It's a comfortable old bed, isn't it? They don't make them this way anymore, with rope supports and feather down. I love the antiquity of Collinwood. Good morning, J! Are you hungry?"

She plucked a piece of bacon from the tray and waved it near the top of his head, which was still the only part of him exposed. "It's a new day, J! A shiny new 24 hours to kill me, but…let's have breakfast first."

That night the Joker had had a considerably pleasing dream - a very rare occurrence - so he naturally felt quite hostile when Maggie's small hand nudged him from his slumber. "Go away" he half-snarled, half-whined, his hands defiantly pulling the covers more snugly up over his head. He wasn't quite sure how he'd ended upside down and on the complete opposite side of the bed, but all he knew was that he felt ridiculously comfortable, and didn't plan on moving for foolish reasons such as eating.

When Maggie continued to prod him with her finger, the Joker groaned and roughly removed the sheet from his face with a low snarl. "What!" he demanded, his eyes blazing with irritation. He'd probably appear much more intimidating, if it weren't for the fact that his dark-ringed eyes were glazed with sleep. Now noticing the tray on the bedside table, he heaved a sigh and slowly sat up. "This had better be the best damned meal I've ever had, or else you're in trouble" he grumbled, scratching the back of his head as he glanced at the clock. "Seven-forty-five? Lady, are you nuts? Normally I get up way before that, yes, but this is my vacation!" Promptly diving back under the covers, he wearily urged, "Just give me ten more hours, alright? I can kill you then."

Maggie moved to the head of the bed and placed the tray there. She felt around the covers until she found toes. "Oh, come on, eat it - it's hot and quite good! I happen to make the best cinnamon apples in New England, and the bacon is from the premium livestock on the Collins farms…wherever they are. Frankly, I don't care what you do with the rest of your day, so you can sleep forever if you wish. There's a hammock in the wild flower garden, or you can take a towel to the beach. Just get out of bed so I can tackle the stains on Mrs. Stoddard's sheets. Who knows? I may save you some dough."

She sat Indian style, leaning against the pillows with the tray on her lap. She munched the bacon and gave a seductive "Mmm."

"The best? That's kinda presumptuous, don't you think? I mean, have you actually tried every single person's cinnamon apples in New England?" the Joker challenged, his voice muffled as he spoke against the covers. Moving his feet away from her hands in irritation, he quirked a brow when he heard her moaning while taking a bite of her bacon. Suppressing a chuckle, he pushed the blanket off his face while teasing, "Well so much for being a virgin! For such a prude, you sure don't eat your bacon in a very 'ladylike' manner." Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he rolled his eyes before holding out his hand. "Gimme that...and not the piece you ate, 'cause that's gross."

Before Maggie could properly respond, the Joker leaned over her and swiped a few pieces, then dove back under the covers to eat in private. He was actually pretty starving, and whenever he had a ravenous appetite, he knew he wasn't the most pleasant sight to behold.

Maggie felt some satisfaction that he was curious enough to tackle the proteins, and immediately rose to the defense of her cinnamon apples. "Well, of course! Since we're so close to New York City, we do get their daily paper every now and again. Roger is a big news buff…I seem to remember a recipe from the Commissioner's wife – oh, what was her name? Somebody… Gordon …Beatrice? No, no matter. She said nutmeg was the true indicator of a premium baked apple. Her trump card, as it was, but I just don't know. I think simple New England brown sugar is the way to…" She scooped a dripping apple slice into her mouth. "Oh! Oh, my! You know, I really think it's the butter, come to think of it. It's the freshly churned butter Mrs. Johnson procures from the farmers on the north….Oh my, yes, delicious, perfect. I'm glad you aren't so hungry, 'cause this is the last of it. Oh, yum!"

The Joker poked his head out from under the blankets, glaring up at her with a tight-lipped scowl. "You are a very, very evil woman, considering how you pretend to be such a sweet and wholesome little bunny. Now stop lying and gimme some of that." Attempting to reach for the tray once more, he miscalculated the distance and fell onto the floor in an ungraceful, growling heap. Now glowering up at her, he irritably demanded, "What's the deal, hmm? If you wanted me to eat, why did you keep it by you and you alone? Not very hospitable, princess."

Sighing to himself as he sat up on the floor, he cracked his neck and snatched one of the bowls of cinnamon apples, his finger poking the mass experimentally before he shrugged and plopped the whole thing into his mouth. Chewing noisily, he suddenly remembered that he was in the presence of a 'lady', and irritably tried to monitor his barbarous eating habits. "Do you cook for everyone all the time, or am I just special?" he asked, not bothering to swallow his food until after he'd spoken.

Maggie, wincing slightly, watching the apples make a lumpy trail from his mouth, to his throat, and finally to his gut. "I like to cook, but I'm not the cook, if that's what you're asking. Now my mother, she was a cook, and my Pop delighted in trying her various Julia Childs projects. Me, I just enjoy the sense of at least doing one thing right... Or two. Cooking is no fun without someone to eat it." She jerked her head up and pointed a silencing finger at him. "Yes, I know, that was a very Dark Age June Cleaver thing to say." She tossed him a linen napkin and scooped up a biscuit in the basket on the tray. She split the steaming bread and slathered it with butter. "I prefer honey butter, but you may think differently." She laid the biscuit on the corner of the tray and waited.

They faced off. "Oh, come now, don't be mean. Refusing to eat my cooking means sweet Igor, the Collins' Russian Wolf Hound, will get more than his share. I'd rather you eat it simply because …well, honestly I don't know what you have done to deserve a buttermilk biscuit, but we can tally your points later. Agreed?"

She took another biscuit from the basket and tore off a piece, nibbling it and smiling. In the morning light streaming through the windows, she looked like a flushed teenager. She also had rested well, because of the very reasons her houseguest frightened her - his hair-trigger temper, his volatile dependence on the dagger, and his complete unconcern for human life – should any of these things be challenged, Maggie knew he would take care of them. Just like her father, only in a less blood-thirsty way. She had slept like a girl with a crush, tortured deeply, with sensual, delicious sensations throughout. When she had awakened she'd blushed, unsure of why she had had such a dream about a man with a haggard, tattered face. A man so insolent and cruel with words, yet he made her heart descend to her belly like an elevator past its warranty. But he was also a man that had challenged her, brought her out of herself, and excited her nurturing impulses beyond the mundane and predictable. He was all at once savior and devil, beauty and beast…This "J," this man who'd wanted to kill her, and perhaps worse. Yet here she was, cajoling him to eat the breakfast she had cooked.

Finally she shook off the charade and said, quite gently, "Eat, J, you've nothing to gain by mischief. Forget it makes me happy… Do it for selfish reasons." She smiled broadly, showing her straight teeth. Her smile, Joe Haskell had once said, could light the Collinsport Powerworks. Now Maggie was not so sure, but she wanted to smile and did, quite honestly.

"I don't like sweet stuff" the Joker complained (in reference to her honey butter), yet he knew he was contradicting himself since he'd just eaten her cinnamon apples. Puffing his cheeks full of air, he released his breath like a noisy little toddler and sulked. He didn't particularly like being doted on, especially when she kept encouraging him to eat. When he begrudgingly reached for the biscuit, he sarcastically asked, "What, aren't you going to feed it to me, too? I prefer the whole 'here comes the airplane!' thing opposed to the choo-choo train, so do your worst."

Crossing his legs Indian style, the Joker rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he took a bite, cursing the fact that this was the most enjoyable meal he'd had in a long time. Finally, after a moment's pause, he sourly confessed, "I usually eat leftovers from the garbage, so I've gotta say this is quite the step up from what I'm used to. It's not that I can't afford to get groceries or anything, but do I really look like the type who'd come into the Piggly Wiggly with a shopping list?"

Shoving the rest of the biscuit into his mouth, the Joker irritably asked, "Are you going to force even more food down my throat, or is this good enough for you, sugar pop? I've never been a guy with much of an appetite, after all, so consider yourself privileged that I'm even willing to eat this slop."

The Joker by no means considered Maggie's food 'slop', but he had a terrible time with compliments and didn't like giving them. Cupping his chin in his hand, his eyes lazily strayed toward the wall as he asked, "What do you plan on forcing me to do today, hmm? You seem like the 'lonely' type, so I'm almost afraid to ask. In a weird, twisted sort of way, our situation makes me think of that pansy fairytale about that pretty woman and the beast, or whatever it's called, only you'd better not try to turn me into a gentleman. Or read to me. I hate being coddled."

Maggie smiled and clapped her hands together sarcastically, but jovially saying, "You're welcome!" to his diatribe against all things sweet, satiating, bonding, or generally civil. "And you are the one hiding out, so you tell me what you would like to do."

"Hiding out? I'm not hiding, I'm being held prisoner in some bizarro world where everyone's nice" the Joker complained, folding his arms as his lower lip protruded into a slight pout. He knew she probably viewed him as a child - a simpleton, even - but he found that he didn't care since he didn't need to prove himself to Maggie. It was Gotham who needed to fear his intelligence, not some pretty little New England bunny, so with a sigh he reclined against the side of the bed and shrugged. "I dunno, I wasn't even aware that there was anything to do here. I noticed you don't have any TV's, so for having such nice digs, you obviously missed out on the essentials of life."

Twisting his lips when he remembered there was a piano in the drawing room, the Joker suddenly leapt up to his feet with the agility of a cat and urged, "I wanna go downstairs...I'm sure there's something to do other than get teased by a prude."

"Captive?" Maggie crossed her arms and smiled, "You took my purse and invited yourself here, not me. You had all the gumption!" Looking askance, she softly added, "Well alright, go have fun, but don't steal anything, and please stop calling me names." She collected the tray and moved towards the door.

"Roger has a projector and some old silent movies if you'd like" she added as an after thought. "Otherwise, I'm not certain what you'd rather do…"

The Joker gave her a disbelieving look. "You have got to be kidding me. You need to tell your boss that times have changed, and that, miracle of miracles, we actually have movies with sound now! Can't believe he missed that boat." With a chuckle, he walked past her through the door and sneered when he noticed her recoil as he brushed against her. "Are my clothes dry yet? I'm kinda tired of walking around shirtless...unless, of course, you'd rather I stay this way?" he teased, sending her a cheeky grin as he began to descend the staircase.

Not bothering to really pay attention to her most likely flustered reply, the Joker shoved his hands into his pants' pockets and took the stairs two at a time, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he observed his surroundings. He definitely felt out of place standing there in the foyer, all ornate and full of a proud majesty, considering how he was bruised, scarred, slightly bloody, and completely shirtless. Not exactly the picture of royalty, he mused.

Now entering the drawing room, the Joker took in the rather bland scenery of books, books, and more books, some plush furniture, and a piano in the far corner of the room. Feeling a tug in his heart that he promptly ignored, he approached the most likely out of tune instrument before having a seat. Running his fingers reverently across the ivory keys, he tried to remember how long it had been since he last played. Fifteen, twenty years? Either way, he knew he was bound to be a tad rusty.

Carefully plunking out a few deliberate notes, his lips quirked up into a soft smile as he imagined his little sister at his side, her sunshine blonde pigtails bouncing along with her movements as she urged 'Play chopsticks for me, Jack!'

'But angel, I just played chopsticks...wouldn't you rather something more meaningful, like Mozart?'

'No! I want chopsticks, Jack.'

Unaware that he was chuckling softly, he found himself playing the rather childish piece, his fingers gliding across the keys as if he'd never been apart from his favorite instrument. He was so wrapped up in the music that he didn't hear Maggie's soft, careful steps behind him, his eyes closing as he tried to remember another favorite of his.

"Well, it's not Carnegie Hall, but it will do." Maggie giggled and sat beside him, facing away from the piano. His shirt and vest were folded over her arm. "I love music, perhaps because I am so woeful at it." She lowered her eyes and smoothed the supple fabric of his vest in her lap. "At one time my father nursed some fantasy that I might be proficient at something – piano, flute, violin – oh, he bought me lessons in just about everything. Except guitar, mind you. Guitars were for the bad girls who ironed their hair and smoked marijuana cigarettes. I think he worried if I learned the guitar I'd end up singing nude in some bohemian coffee house." She laughed again. "Sometimes I wonder if that would have been more exciting than Collinwood."

She watched his profile as he plinked away, changing tunes and styles, never once looking at the array of sheet music leaning on the piano stand. She didn't know if he was listening to her, nor did she really care. She was just happy that he was allowing her to sit near him…for now. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, so close to touching that she felt a current lift the downy hairs of her upper arm. His dark eyes were intent on the keys, and a shock of wiry green and brown hair bobbed across the bridge of his nose as he tackled Beethoven with dark passion. As he transitioned into Moonlight Sonata, Maggie's eyes misted. He looked haunted and sad, swollen mouth twitching, brow knitting as if he were recalling something lost to him forever.

She wanted so badly to touch him at that moment, to slide her hand into the crook of his arm and still the notes of the piano, so that he might turn those eyes to her. In the morning light his face was no longer so terrible, perhaps because he wasn't twisting it in fury, or expelling some cutting insult. She wanted to run her fingers across the scars and kiss them, to stroke his clean hair and nuzzle it. She wanted –

His eyes darted at her then, and for one terror-stricken moment it seemed as if he'd read her thoughts. She caught her breath and looked away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. The question held no true expectation of an answer, but as the Joker waited, he felt himself drawing into himself again. He was unnerved that he hadn't noticed her approach, and worse still, that he hadn't noticed how close she'd gotten. Her slight frame was practically pressed against his arm, and he moved away with a hint of repugnance across his darkened features. He hadn't meant to become so wrapped up in his musical experience, but something about the piano had always brought him a sense of peace...it had always brought him closer to her.

Abruptly closing the lid to the piano, the Joker ran a hand through his shock of hair and exhaled deeply. Now noticing his clothes in her arms, he wordlessly took the freshly cleaned raiment and rose from the bench, his arms weaving through the blue honeycombed shirt as he turned his back to her. He didn't give a damn about her thoughts, but he naturally couldn't help but wonder what she'd been thinking. Had she read his mind? Had she been able to get a glimpse at the man within?

Uneasy over this unwelcome prospect, the Joker finished fastening the row of buttons before a timid, yet urgent knock came at the door.

Not long after, a voice called feebly, "Hey, uh...M-Maggie? It's Willie, I-I-I was jus' wonderin' if you were home? Barnabas wanted me ta come check up on ya..."

Grateful for the much needed distraction, the Joker ignored Maggie's cries of protest as he took four brisk strides toward the double doors. Grabbing hold of the handles, he opened them with a cheeky grin on his face, which soon turned to a look of amusement when he spotted the mousy, timid blonde man before him.

"Uh...hello?" Willie greeted, a hint of bewilderment lacing his features. "I-i-is Maggie home?"

Trying not to laugh - this was going to be fun - the Joker nodded and sent her a pleased glance over his shoulder. "Maggie? Oh yeah, she's back there" he assured the servant, bobbing his head in response. "She and I were just...talking."

Seeming to get the wrong meaning, Willie's blue-grey eyes took in the sight of the Joker's disheveled appearance, then noted the way his shirt wasn't properly buttoned. Cheeks coloring, Willie's lips flapped as he struggled to regain his sense of speech, his gaze training helplessly on Maggie as she finally came into view. "M-M-Maggie?" he questioned weakly, clearly wanting answers.

Maggie's hands shot up to her face, her fingers trembling against her chin, as if trying to prompt speech. The man had darted for the door and thrown it open with such force she hadn't had time to stop him. Trying desperately to regain her composure, she moved past the man and blocked the stranger from Willie's view. Normally she was rattled by the way Willie Loomis peered intently at her every moment she was in the room, but for now she was grateful to have his attention, and wished the man would gracefully retreat to the drawing room again so she could speak privately. No such luck, of course.

"Willie," she said under her breath, affecting a sweet smile. "It's quite alright. It's one of Julia's former patients. You know…from Wyndcliff Sanitarium? He's just been released and came by to send me news of Joe. Wasn't that dear of him?"

Willie licked his moist lips and glanced over Maggie's shoulder at the man gripping the door to the drawing room, moving it back and forth so the hinges squeaked maddeningly. He looked like he might leap on it at any moment and swing on it like a gate. Mrs. Stoddard would not like that, Willie mused to himself.

To Maggie he whispered, "He don't look like he needs ta be released ta me. You sure you're alright, Maggie? I-I mean I can stay if –"

"It's quite alright" Maggie assured him a little too quickly. "He's harmless, really. A bit …odd, yes, but gentle as a …a…"

She heard a loud noise and flinched against Willie, turning with dread to see what her guest had done.

The Joker had naturally been listening to this exchange with glee, his features turning purposely dark so as to frighten this stranger. He liked how much control this mousy little man gave him, so he turned his most intimidating stare on Willie before moving back into the main part of the foyer. Now glancing up at a portrait of some dead, creepy old guy with a wolf's head cane, the Joker reached out a hand and touched the canvas with an experimental poke. As if attacking him, the portrait came off its hook and crashed down to the ground, his eyes widening as he shot Maggie and her guest a pseudo-innocent grin. "Do I owe you for the dead guy now, too?" he asked, begrudgingly leaning over to pick up the portrait. As he placed it back onto the wall, he failed to notice Willie shiver.

"Y-y-you shouldn't be so disrespectful of other people's property...m-my boss won't be too happy if he finds out you've been messin' with his portrait." Realizing his mistake, Willie hurriedly corrected, "I-I mean, his ancestor's portrait."

The Joker shrugged. "Well if he's as old as the guy in this picture, I think I can take him...I promise to play nice, Willie, was it?" With a chuckle, he added, "That's not a very nice name, by the way. The men up at county would eat you for breakfast."

"C-county?"

"Yeah, jail" the Joker clarified, shrugging his shoulders as he gave him a crooked grin. "Don't worry, that rumor about bending over to get the soap isn't entirely true."

Whimpering, Willie seized Maggie by the arm and began to forcefully drag her toward the kitchen, ignoring the Joker's laughter as he whipped her into the room and closed the door securely behind them. He knew Maggie didn't particularly trust him ever since she thought he'd been her kidnapper, but he held a special place for her in his heart, and he didn't like the idea of this...this thing hurting her. "Who is he really, huh, Maggie?" Willie finally demanded, his lower lip protruding as he tried to figure out what was going on. "He don't seem like no sane person to me, a-and I don't trust him! He's gonna hurt you, I jus' know it, an' if somethin' like that happens, I'll never forgive myself! Jus' lemme stay here for a while, alright, Maggie? At least until he leaves?"

Maggie felt the color rising to her cheeks as she formulated what to say. "I think he means to stay awhile, Willie. I believe he has family coming to…get him?" She didn't mean her inflection to rise, as if questioning her own elaborate lie. "Please don't worry about me, Willie. I know he seems a little sinister, but he's been here hours already and hasn't laid a hand on me. I think he just has designs on the piano." The corner of her mouth twitched as she spread her lips into a simpering smile.

When Willie did not accept this she added, "I'll call if I need you, Willie. I promise."

"But-but there ain't no phone at the Old House. You know that…"

"I'll send one of the servants!"

"But the servants all went to –"

"Please, Willie, just…" She took both his arms and maneuvered him towards the door, only to push him face to face again with J, who had appeared like a grinning Jack-in-the-Box.

"Hello, there" the Joker greeted, showing off his stained teeth with a prideful sneer. He enjoyed how Willie visibly recoiled and fell back into Maggie, the clown prince biting down on his lower lip to stifle his laughter. There was something so amusing about this simple man, so he couldn't help but feel a certain gratitude for him stopping by. He'd needed a good pick-me-up after Maggie's constant doting, after all.

Clicking his tongue, he teased, "Has Maggie been telling you all about lil' ol' me? I hope she only told you the bad stuff, like how I eat nails on my toast...gives it that nice taste of iron, and it's the best way to get my protein." Chuckling when the blonde flinched, he was tempted to add another abrasive remark when he decided that this 'Willie' character might prove to be a thorn in his side, if he so chose to keep raising his suspicions.

With a sigh, the Joker clapped a hand down on Willie's shoulder while sustaining, "Wilfred, my boy - mind if I call you Wilfred? - I can see that you're rather, uh...unsettled by my presence, but I can assure you that my intentions towards Miss Evans are highly dishonorable."

When Willie's lip curled into a slight snarl - the first sign of retaliation he'd exhibited thus yet - the Joker gave a laugh and nudged the servant in the shoulder. "Yeesh, you Collinsport people are so serious! Tell him, Maggie...tell him that the only thing I've 'deflowered' is your bed. Uhhh...the servant's bed, that is."

Maggie's cheeks burned. She had skillfully avoided telling Willie that this man had been with her all night, and now he'd tossed the fact around like yesterday's news.

"It's true, Willie. He stayed in the guest room, but you don't have to mention that to Mrs. Stoddard, do you? I mean, after all, he was a friend of Joe's, and…" Maggie darted pleading eyes towards J, hoping he would at least aid and abet that part of the fabrication. "Oh, Willie, he's just a visitor and nothing more. You really don't think I'd …or he'd want to…?" she began to stammer, the guilt of her earlier desires creeping up on her. She struggled to continue. "Um, J and I are going to have a nice visit and he will be on his way, won't you, J?" Maggie slipped her arm around J, feeling the muscles in his back tighten. She patted his chest affectionately. "See, Willie? Gentle as a…a…we've become great friends. 'Cause any friend of Joe's is a friend of…" Maggie turned frightened eyes to J, but continued to hold on for dear life, looping her fingers in one of his back belt loops. She held on partly to keep her knees from buckling and partly to keep J from assaulting Willie, which she feared he'd do at any moment. So she stood there, clinging to him, feeling his body heat with rage at her liberty.

To Willie they seemed stiff and exceedingly uncomfortable, like prom dates getting their portrait taken. But Maggie was smiling so perhaps it was okay. It completely baffled him how she was not repulsed by a man with such a scarred face. He even looked like he'd been wearing make-up at one point, his eyes ringed with black smudges. He did smell nice, though, like roses, Willie mused, before the man's sudden movement made him snap to attention. "A'-a' course not, Maggie" Willie finally assured her, genuinely not wanting to upset her. And most importantly, he wanted to believe her, because if she was lying, that meant that this stranger was actually something more, and that was something that he was absolutely not willing to accept. Anxiously wringing his hands, he bobbed his head once before acknowledging, "Alright, well...I-I guess I'll go now, I jus'...you jus' call on me if ya need anything now, alright? Me an' Barnabas will be more than happy to keep ya company, if you're lonely." Sending the Joker one last disapproving glare, the servant hunched his shoulders and hurried out of Collinwood with the intention of telling his overseer about what he'd just seen. Or maybe not...perhaps it would be best if he just handled this situation on his own.

After a moment's hesitation, the Joker irritably removed herself from Maggie's arms while remarking, "Well I think that went rather well, don't you? He's damn weird, and that's saying something, considering how I'm the king of weird... Not many men wear clown paint, after all."

Now turning and leaning against the wall, he sent her a sly grin while asking, "Well what are you blushing for, hmm? I think that guy likes you...far too protective for his own good. Are you blushing 'cause you like him, too?"

Maggie started and looked at J with a shocked, incredulous expression. "Like Willie? Of course not! He…he just looks after Mr. Collins, our neighbor." She fumbled with the neckline of her dress. "Truthfully, he makes me nervous since he always comes around at odd times, forgets to knock, and never wants to leave. You shouldn't have egged him on, because now he'll be back here every hour on the hour."

Her brow furrowed and she went to the window to check his departure. She could just make out Willie's form disappearing down the path towards the woods. "If he tells Barnabas then, Barnabas will tell Mrs. Stoddard. Oh, why did you have to blab everything, J?"

"Hmm, well at least give him credit where credit's due - he has good taste" the Joker teased, sneering at Maggie's discomfort. "If I had half a heart, I'd probably be traipsing around doting on pretty little bunnies, too." Shrugging his shoulders, he added, "And it's alriiiight to have a schoolgirl crush on someone, even that little mouse. I mean, I may not look like it, but I used to have schoolgirl...er - schoolboy? - crushes as a brat, but that's beside the point."

Mentally berating himself for rambling, the Joker's lips curled back in amusement. "Well who cares, hmm? Will it ruin your pristine reputation as Maine's little sweetheart if they find out about me?"

Maggie moved her eyes to the counter. "It's not a crush... Willie is just delusional. He's never been quite…right in the head. Besides, whatever his feelings, they are not reciprocated. I loved Joe, and only Joe, and he won't be coming back." She turned to add over her shoulder, "It's good to know that you once had a heart, even if it was as a child. I wish you still did…"

The Joker eyed her sharply. "Just because I found someone 'pretty' doesn't mean I had a heart, peaches. There's a fine line between love and lust, and I doubt I loved that silly little girl." And yet, he had, but he didn't want to think about Sarah or the massive guilt that came along with her memory. Slumping his shoulders, he looked up at Maggie through darkened eyes, his tone bitter and straight to the point as he demanded, "How can you be such an optimist, hmm? Your family's dead, your boyfriend's crazy, and you're aaaall alone. Surely you know that there's a point when things aren't going to turn in your favor? I mean, uh...I hate to be the bearer of bad news and all, but your life isn't exactly enviable at the moment."

Pausing, the clown prince rubbed at his chin and frowned. "You got any make-up, by chance? This 'naked skin' look is making me itch..."

"Yes" Maggie parroted, "all alone." She traced circles on the counter top before saying softly, "Please don't cover your face again. Your scars don't bother me at all anymore, and no one should be coming around to see you except Willie, and he's the type who's seen it all. Besides, it's the one kind thing you've done since I met you, except for not killing me." She chewed her lip. "I suppose I shouldn't have acknowledged a kindness, because now you'll be determined to paint your face again just to spite me."

The Joker gave a dismissive 'hmph', yet he said nothing. He hadn't gone bare-faced for over a few hours in several years, if not close to two decades, and the idea of humoring this silly little bunny annoyed him. He wanted his make-up, but he noticed it wasn't in his coat pocket when he'd searched for it earlier that morning. She was right in the fact that no one was around to really see him, but he was still a creature of habit, and wasn't particularly pleased by the idea of not wearing any make-up, whatsoever.

After a moment of his internal musings, the Joker threw his hands up and gave a barely intelligible grumble. "Fine, fine, whatever - just make sure I don't catch you staring at me again" he groused, his features now resembling that of a sulking child's. Now glancing to the left, he quirked a brow when he spotted what appeared to be a framed picture of the family who lived there. Moving over and lifting it up, he smirked and asked, "Are these the stuffed-shirts you work for? The daughter's kind of a babe, but that old man looks like he's got a major stick up his ass. Are they as unbearable to live with as they look?"

Maggie moved to stand at his elbow. "Yes, Carolyn is lovely. We were school chums together, even though I wasn't in her social class. And that is Roger Collins and his sister, Elizabeth. Oh, Roger can be cantankerous but he's devoted to his family, and he's been very kind to me. They all have. Of course, nothing really replaces one's real family, but…"

She shook the memory off. Something about J's presence brought up so many feelings of loss. He enjoyed teasing her for her optimism, when in fact she had none. She was just very good at hiding it. Despite his warning, she couldn't help but study his profile as he sneered at the family photo. She didn't know why she was compelled to stare at him, or follow him about as he darted away from her, like a disgusted little boy on the playground. Perhaps she worried if she let him out of her sight he would disappear, leaving her with no one at Collinwood but Willie Loomis and his oddly reclusive employer, Barnabas Collins. But was that the only reason?

Maggie's face changed as she followed the line of his sullen brow, down the noble nose and to the hideously deformed, but still sensual mouth. Was she developing a crush? Or worst yet, lust, as he'd so irreverently referred? No, it couldn't be…

"Not in your social class, eh?" the Joker asked, not seeming to have taken notice of her intense scrutiny. "I can tell...she seems like quite the wild card. Think I could meet her? I tend to like the wild types" he teased, giving a mocking wiggle of his eyebrows before he returned his gaze to Carolyn's face. As he studied the delicate, elfin features, proud chin and wide, blue eyes, he suddenly felt his breath hitch in his throat. He hadn't seen it before, but now he found that he was suddenly reminded of Sarah, his stance stiffening as he imagined her holding her hand out to him.

'Jack, don't be such a chicken...haven't you ever kissed a girl before?'

'No...'

'Well don't worry, it's easy...c'mere and I'll show you.'

With a snarl, the Joker squeezed the frame with such a monstrous fury that it snapped in half, shards of glass embedding into his palms as he dropped the picture in stunned rage. Blinking in disbelief as he gazed down at the destroyed frame, he refused to lift his gaze as he curled his bleeding hands at his sides.

Maggie's body jerked with the cracking of the frame, and the ear assaulting sound that only crashing glass can make. She watched him stalk away, clenching and unclenching his bleeding fists, and fell to her knees.

"It's alright," she said quietly, gingerly plucking up the glass with her fingernails. "I'll clean it up. It seems that's all I'm good for…"

Her tone was deliberate. She couldn't mask the jealousy she'd felt at his words about Carolyn, even though she knew they were mostly in cruel jest. All her life she'd gladly been second to Carolyn, who won prize after prize at Collinsport High and racked up boyfriends like bowling pins. She alternately loved and loathed her friend's stunning beauty, as all girlfriends secretly do. She'd taken it all in stride for years, the way men's eyes would rest on her with desire, only to waver when Carolyn Stoddard bounced into the room in her designer frock. But at that moment she couldn't take it in stride, and this bothered her immensely. The Joker was getting to her, she knew, and that was exactly what he wanted.

She felt the sudden slice of jagged glass and jerked her finger to her chest. "Ouch!" she cried, her eyes watering. She watched a huge droplet of blood quiver at the end of her finger, then plummet onto her pretty white dress, a favorite and one she'd chosen that day for reasons she did not want to admit to herself. As she rocked and sucked her finger she began to cry softly, trying to stifle the swell of emotion, lest the Joker tear into her again with his verbal assaults.

The Joker removed a blood-stained shard from his hand with little emotion, the stinging pain a welcome sensation in contrast to the cold, numbing guilt that always came with the thought of poor little Sarah. She'd been so young at the time of her death - fourteen, to be exact - but he'd never meant for it to happen. She'd been one of the good ones...one of the few he actually cared about.

Hardly even registering Maggie's words, the Joker finally looked down and saw her rocking back and forth like a child, the finger in her mouth only furthering her appearance of a small, injured girl. Something about the sight caused the clown prince's heart to throb, and he cursed the fact that this woman and this damn house always seemed to remind him of his past in some way, shape or form. His little sister had always rocked like that when she was scared - predominately because of their bastard father - and he'd always been there to scoop her up in his arms and hold her until the demons went away.

Hardly seeing Maggie for who she was, the Joker hesitantly bent forward and placed his hands under her arms, now lifting her with a surprising amount of gentleness as he mumbled, "It's alright...it's just glass, you silly broad."

Maggie was suddenly conscious of being lifted to her feet and put aright like a little doll. Her eyes focused on the scarred mouth and although she did not register the words, she caught the gentleness in his tone and suddenly, like an eager, thankful child she threw herself against him, cupped his face and pressed her mouth to his. Her lips were still salty from her own blood as she kissed him hard and frantically. Her fingers laced into the wavy hair at the nape of his neck and she held on, twisting her face to press deeper into him. It may be her kiss of death, but she was determined to make the most of it, timidity and humility be damned.

The Joker gave a grunt when he felt Maggie throw herself into his arms, his nerves afire and paralyzing him since he didn't know which of his impulses to act on. One side of him wanted to accept the affection, but the other side - the stronger side - wanted to knock her against the wall and watch her curl into herself as before. He flinched when he felt her hands dance across his scars, then interlace through the mass of hair at the back of his head and dig into his scalp. The slightly painful sensation and the taste of her blood was, admittedly, quite pleasant - he'd always had an affinity for the more masochistic aspects of life, whether it be cutting, blood-letting, or all of the above.

Digging his nails into her forearms, the Joker slipped his tongue into her mouth and tried not to giggle when he felt the little prude stiffen, his teeth nibbling on her bottom lip with the hopes of tasting more blood. He was a sick, sick man, no question about it, but he wasn't sick enough to string a little bunny along for his own amusement.

Pushing her away with his typical violent demeanor, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave her a cold, stern look. "Do not touch me" he warned, now spinning about on his heel and reaching for his vest and coat. Not even bothering to put them on, he sourly grumbled, "I should've left ages ago, but I suppose I was just humoring you... I've got a 'shipment' to check out in Bangor, so I'll be going now. Nice, uh...'knowing' you for that brief little moment we shared, sugar pie." With a cruel sneer, he turned and headed towards the door.

Maggie caught herself with the counter and leaned against it, her fingers moving to her stinging, quivering bottom lip that he'd just accosted with his own. She blanched with humiliation, then cursed herself for the panic she felt when she heard that he was leaving. Why on earth did she care? Why was she not rejoicing that this cruel fiend was about to walk out of her life forever? She should have felt a wash of relief, not this emptiness and dread!

"Why are you so afraid of me?" she heard herself say, her back still facing him. She heard his footsteps stop in the hallway, and held her breath.

The Joker's stomach roiled with a mixture of anger and trepidation, his hand pressing against his midsection as he momentarily wondered if he was going to be sick. "I'm not afraid of you" he insisted, never once removing his gaze from the double doors. "I just so happen to be telling the truth, and I can't afford to waste anymore time here playing Happy House. What do you think you're doing anyway, hmm? I'm not the picket fence type, sugar lump, so I'd suggest you get that idea out of your head right now. I live in the moment and only for the moment, without a care for the consequences. If you realized that, you wouldn't be coddling me like a child and trying to keep me here for God only knows what reason. You do not need me, so just...just back off."

Maggie trembled. "Yes, I do," she whispered to her heart. "I do need you." Her voice was so soft and defeated that she knew he wouldn't hear. Just mouthing the words sent a chill of loneliness down her spine. It was too awful to bear, that loneliness. No, she did not want him to hear, it would be too much of a victory for him, to leave her at her most vulnerable, to leave after he had crushed one by one every dream she'd owned. He was right. She had wanted the picket fence…with Joe, darling Joe with his twinkling blue eyes and tight, golden-brown curls.

She slid down the counter and sat on the linoleum, her knees drawn to her chest. As the morning sunlight streamed in upon her, she folded her arms and rested her forehead against them, waiting to hear the slamming of the door.

The nausea in the Joker's gut was growing more severe, his gaze hardening as he opened the double doors and practically broke them off the hinges from the force of his shutting them. Tossing his coat over his shoulder, he squinted around him as the bright sunlight streamed in through the trees, a snide grin crossing his lips when he noticed someone crouching behind a large bush alongside the manor.

"Hey there, Billy!" he called, stifling a giggle when the servant yelped in surprise. "Whatcha doin' back there, hmm? Trying to be the world's creepiest peeping Tom?"

Flustered, Willie didn't even bother correcting the Joker about his name, his bottom lip quivering as he weakly returned, "I-I-I was jus' checkin' in on Maggie, that's all...I wanted ta see if she was tellin' the truth earlier."

The Joker shrugged. "Well there's no need to worry, 'cause I'm leaving now."

"You are?" Willie asked, his eyes lighting up like the stars in the sky. Hurriedly recomposing himself, he added as a pseudo-regretful afterthought, "Well how come, huh? I thought you an' Maggie were gettin' along fine."

The Joker snorted. "Yeah, that's the problem...we were getting along a little too well, if you know what I mean. She must've been alone for a hell of a long time since she practically mauled me. You wouldn't think so by looking at her, but she's a feisty little tart."

Willie felt his cheeks color with rage. "Hey, d-don't you be talkin' 'bout Maggie like that! Sh-sh-she's a real nice girl! Real nice!"

The Joker giggled, nodding while agreeing, "Yeah, she is nice...nice for a fling." Now stepping around the seething servant, he ignored Willie's fuming shouts as he lifted his arm and gave a dismissive wave.

"Oh, no you don't!" Willie snapped, now grabbing the Joker by the arm and forcing him back around. "Y-you better go in there an' apologize to her, or else I'll...I'll..."

"You'll what, stutter me to death!" the Joker snarled, now seizing Willie by the shirt collar and slamming him up against a nearby tree. The clown prince had tolerated this simpleton for far too long, his limbs quivering with fury as his hand fumbled for his knife. Finally finding it and closing his hand around the blade, he flicked the weapon beneath the servant's chin and asked, "Have you ever played carve the pumpkin, Williiiie? Have you ever felt the sweet, silver kiss of a blade?"

Willie's eyes widened as he heard those words, his lips quivering as the blade hovered dangerously close to his carotid artery. Something about the Joker's voice was colder and more nasal than usual, as if some beast had taken over and blotted out the merry troublemaker from mere moments ago.

Feeling tears bubble along his lashes, Willie cowered in the Joker's grasp while moaning, "Oh please, please, please don't hurt me, mistah, I swear, I just wanted you ta be nice ta Maggie, that's all! She's been so alone for so long, a-an' she just needs a bit a'-"

"Shut up!" the Joker snarled, knocking Willie's back against the tree so roughly that his teeth rattled. "It's fools like you who make me glad I started killing, and do you know whyyy?" When the servant whimpered and shook his head, the clown prince chuckled darkly while sustaining, "Because simpletons of your caliber make it all the more rewarding when I end you pa-thet-ic lives!"

Finally unable to take it, Willie burst into tears, his hands clawing at the Joker's strong grasp as he pleaded, "Jus' lemme go, I swear I'll leave ya alone, please!"

Only feeling the urge to maim, hurt and kill, the Joker reared back his arm and was about to bring the blade down just as he heard a shrill, feminine shout from the front stoop.

"Oh God, don't! J, don't do it!" Maggie was suddenly at his side, tugging wildly at his arm. As she floundered, trying desperately to hold on, she snapped at Willie, "Why did you come back here, Willie? I told you to leave me in peace!"

"In pieces, more like!" Willie wailed, licking his lips. "Maggie, this man's crazy - he's no good, I tell ya!"

"Please go back to the Old House, Willie. He won't hurt me, but he'll certainly kill you!"

The Joker shrugged her off violently, and she staggered back. She took a few steps to steady herself, then went on, much calmer now, "You don't have to worry, alright? J is leaving now, and he doesn't want to be here anymore than you want him to be."

Willie shot Maggie a bitter look. "How come you're defendin' this creep, huh, Maggie? He practically slit my throat, but you don't even seem ta care! I-I can't believe I even told 'im to apologize to ya, 'cause I'm obviously not appreciated as much as this...this freak!" When he shot the Joker a cold glower, he received a glare that was one-hundred degrees colder in response. Hunching his shoulders, he snapped, "Y'know what? Don't worry, Maggie, 'cause I'm leavin', too. I can tell when I'm not wanted."

Skulking slowly away as if he hoped Maggie would stop him, Willie gave the pair a dejected look before turning back again to face the front.

"Pansy" the Joker snarled, slipping his blade back into his pocket with a grimace. "I probably wasn't going to kill him, you know...just rough 'im up a bit to show him who's boss."

"Well, you certainly seemed on your way to killing him to me!" Maggie shot back. She watched Willie retreat, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hunched over gait sending a wave of pity over her. "You made me be cruel to him… I hate that. Unlike you, I don't make sport of hurting other people's feelings."

Her large eyes followed the disappearing blade, then fluttered momentarily to the Joker's face. "Thank you for not killing him. You may think him a simpleton, but he has a good heart."

She gave him one last glance, then turned and began to walk towards the house.

The Joker soured at Maggie's response, not wanting to be thanked yet again by this confusing broad. Why did she tolerate him, anyway? He'd murdered more people than he could count, and held little to no remorse about the fact. Didn't that frighten her? Or was she allowing a smoke screen of ignorance to purposely blot out these facts?

As Maggie began the trek back to Collinwood, the Joker had absolutely no intention of stopping her, yet he cast her one last curious look before shrugging and continuing on his way. She'd been the only one to show him any semblance of kindness since Sarah, and he didn't like the fact that he kept comparing them. Sarah was blonde and soft and sweet, while Maggie was dark and annoying and always there.

As his thoughts continued to rage tempestuously within his mind, he didn't even notice the fancy sports car pulling up the driveway as he drearily trudged along. That is, he didn't notice until it pulled to a direct stop alongside him.

"Hi, there!" came a chipper, feminine greeting.

Bristling on the spot, the Joker clenched his fists and resisted the urge to scream. Were all the natives of Maine this damn intrusive!

Turning with the intention of giving whoever this was a piece of his mind, the words instantly died on his lips when he spotted the sunny disposition of the blonde in the car. Oh, God...

A/N - DUN DUN DUNNN lol