Willing Victim

A/N: The lyrics that Darcy is writing in this chapter are from "Face to Face" by Siouxsie and the Banshees.

Darcy crawled up the stairs to her bedroom sometime after 2 am. Her eyelids were heavy and her body was sore from the inside out. She was slightly annoyed at having to come home in this condition. He’d always let her sleep over there after an injection before. Even when he came here, he always stayed with her until she was tucked into bed and on her way to dreamland. Whatever was in that tranquilizer, it kicked in quickly and made everything slow down. Of course, taking it by mouth had made it take longer to seep into her bloodstream, but now she felt so tired. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the next ten hours. It was amazing that she hadn’t been stopped by the police on the way home. She drove about ten miles per hour all the way back from Jonathan’s apartment in The Narrows. Of course, the police in Gotham had so much more to worry about than one little stoned out of her skull driver.

She sat down on the side of her bed and saw that the answering machine was blinking. Diving over the bed, she hit the button anxiously, hoping it was a call from Jonathan. The first was from Mya:


“Darcy… I’m sorry about our fight this afternoon. I’m just so worried about you. Call me ok?”

“God Mya… stop trying to be my mother.” She punched the button to hear the next message from Shatzi:

“Darcy? We’re going to have a rehearsal tomorrow at my place. 3:00. If you aren’t there, we have to start thinking about breaking up or finding new members or something. Hope to see you. Bye.”

She slapped her forehead and sighed. “Damnit… where the hell have I been.” Sighing, she punched the button for the final message: “Miss Sylvan. This is the Gotham City Police Department. Please call us at your earliest convenience. We need to clarify some details in your statement. You have Lieutenant Gordon’s card.”

Darcy fell back on her bed and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling. She still didn’t feel up to answering questions about the accident. She had been putting them off for weeks. She didn’t really see the use. They were never going to find them. The attack was too coordinated for them to be sloppy enough to get caught. Guys like the ringleader didn’t get caught unless they wanted to be.

She pushed her jeans over her hips and laid down, pulling the covers up to her chest. She thought about rummaging through the laundry basket for a teeshirt to sleep in, but the thought of sleeping in His shirt comforted her. For a while she stared at the ceiling fan going around and around slowly. Then she picked at the stray threads in the edge of the blanket. She rolled over on her side and stared at the phone. She wished that he would call and at least apologize for acting so oddly. If only she knew the number, she could call him, but he’d never given it to her. “God, I hope I didn’t screw it up,” she said aloud to no one. She rolled over on her side, curling up so that the sleeve of the shirt was so close that she could still smell him.

***********************************

Jonathan fumbled with the makeshift rubber tourniquet as he tried to tie it around his own arm. “Fucking hell!” he growled as it slipped yet again. This was so much easier to do on someone else. But it had to be done. His delicate veins wouldn’t pop up without it. Of course, the amorphous madness that was seeping ever quickly into his brain wasn’t making it easier. The voices laughed and taunted him and he squinted his eyes closed against them. He would get even with that freak if it was the last thing he ever did. The Batman had tried to take the only thing he had ever had that was superior to everyone else-- his mind. But he would make him pay for that. When Darcy’s transformation was complete they would draw him out with the chaos. And then they would kill him. He had seen him bleed before but next time he wanted to taste his blood.

He sighed with relief as the plump, purply vein popped up and he could finally slip the needle under his skin. He flinched at the pinprick, but it was over quickly. He smiled, hearing the voices screaming as they were drowned in the calming drug. He hoped that his little outburst hadn’t messed things up with Darcy. Talk about an inopportune time to freak out. He might have slipped her the catalyst tonight if she’d been able to stay longer. But he couldn’t bear the thought of destroying her in his own rage. He hadn’t lied to her when he said that he’d become genuinely fond of her. She was so malleable. And he could sense an inherent darkness there that would be easy to bring to the surface. She had responded so well to the experiment so far. Drago was so far in the back of her mind, she barely remembered his name. And after hearing about the fight with her friend, her conscience seemed to be backing off nicely. Not being able to sensor what she says would eventually give way to not being able to sensor her actions. Given the night’s activities, she was well on her way to losing control. And giving it over to him. A few carefully measured doses of the fear serum would effectively complete the metamorphosis and she would become the perfect foil.

*****************************

“Oh my God… could it be….?” Shatzi pretended to faint as Darcy walked into his flat, a miniscule studio apartment with a curtain between the bathroom and the rest of the apartment.

“Fuck off, Shatzi…” Darcy grumbled, pushing her sunglasses up on her nose. She really didn’t want Mya, or anyone for that matter, to see the red spidery veins that danced around her eyes today.

“Where the hell have you been for the last month?” he asked, throwing clothes and papers off of his sofa so she could sit down.

“At my apartment. You could have come by at any time,” she answered dryly, flopping down.

“Mya told us to wait. She didn’t know if you were ready for company after Erik-- nevermind.”

“It’s okay, Shatzi… you can say his name. I won’t freak out. I wish everyone would quit treating me like I’m about to have a breakdown.” They said no more as the rest of the band started to file in sporadically. Each one expressing surprise and happiness at seeing her. She smiled and hugged them politely, but seemed detached from them, as if holding them at arm’s length. They talked guardedly about finding a new guitar player to replace Erik, but Darcy showed little interest. She was totally engrossed in writing down a lyric that just wouldn’t get out of her head: Mouth to mouth, raining heaven’s blood. She hadn’t been able to think of much more since the night before. She’d sat awake most of the night, waiting for the phone to ring, and it just popped into her brain. There was no tune or other context to go with it. Just the one line, but it was nagging at her.

“Darcy? What do you think?”

“Think about what?” she asked, finally looking up to look at Shatzi.

“About asking Mark Hansen to play for us. At least until we can find someone else. I don’t know about you, but my rent is due and I need some cash. If we get Mark, we can play this weekend.”

“Sure. Whatever is fine.” She smiled at them and went back to her piece of paper.

“What are you writing over there?” Dax, their drummer, asked, nosing over her shoulder.

“Well… nothing. Just a line that I keep hearing. I thought maybe it might turn into a song one of these days.” Darcy shrugged, letting him see the line.

“That’s kind of fucked up, Darce.” He laughed and handed the paper back to her.

“Thanks for the encouragement, Dax.” She sighed and stood up. “So we’ve got a gig on Saturday?”

“The Oubliette,” Shatzi answered, looking expectantly for her reaction.


“Are you serious?” She couldn’t believe her ears. The Oubliette was the biggest Goth nightlub in Gotham. It was actually inside city and not a scuzzy little dive in The Narrows. “Are they desperate?”

“I don’t know, but they’ve been calling for weeks, begging us to come. Apparently your little spectacle drew some attention,” Dax joked, receiving a smack from Shatzi.

Darcy looked at her friends for a minute and then a wide grin slid over her features. “Then I guess you better call Mark Hansen so we can practice.”

**********************************

For the next few days, Darcy was so busy that she didn’t have much time to think about anything else except the show at The Oubliette. Which was good, because she didn’t have time to think about how she hadn’t seen Jonathan since the night they’d had sex. But every night by midnight, a small, filled syringe was delivered to her doorstep. She took it because she didn’t want to deal with not having it, but she resented that he had gotten her addicted, not just to the drug, but to him as well, and now left her to inject it herself. The first night, she’d been so afraid to do it herself that she spent hours sitting in her bed crying, staring at the syringe. “Maybe this is some kind of test,” she thought crazily, peering around as if looking for a spy. “Well I can do this. I can be what you want.” Finally, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she wielded it like Norman Bates and stabbed down into her arm. She screamed in agony, but as soon as she pushed the plunger, all the pain went away. After that, she knew she could do it and had been injecting it herself for almost a week. Every night, hoping that he would knock on the door and say that she was good enough. He never did.

The night of the show arrived and Darcy was eerily calm. It would be the first time she’d performed since Erik’s death and she’d never performed without Erik before. He’d recognized something in her and brought it out. In an effort to keep her from being a violent street kid, the relatives she’d stayed with, and even some of her foster families, had made her endure all sorts of dance and martial arts classes. She’d always hated it, never feeling like she was ever good at anything. Kind of a jack-of-all-trades, master of none sort of feeling. Erik had given her the confidence to open her mouth and have a voice. Of course it had been there all along, but she’d never used it. And she wasn’t sure she could use it without him. She wanted to go to his grave and ask him for help, but this lingering feeling that she was no longer worthy kept her back.

Darcy stood in front of her mirror getting dressed in a tiny dressing room behind the mainstage at The Oubliette. They had twenty minutes until the set began and she had run everyone off. They had all been flitting around her all day, petting and pampering her as if she were some fragile thing. Finally about to suffocate, she asked them all to leave her in peace while she dressed. She was trying not to think about the fact that she most likely wouldn’t be home until well after it was time for her next injection. “Please God, just don’t let me freak out until after the set.” She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noticing how thin she had become in the weeks since the accident. She barely ate anything anymore and it was showing. Her face looked hollowed out and the shadow of her ribs had begun to show. She smirked when she examined her breast and saw that the remains of a yellowish bruise made by Jonathan’s teeth still held on. She turned away from the mirror and pulled a black, shiny satin corset out of her bag. “This will be good for the tits,” she mumbled to herself as she began to put it on. Seeing as how she was the only one here, she put it on backwards and began lacing. As soon as it was tight enough to stay up, she’d call Shatzi or someone in to help her tighten the strings. As soon as skin was covered, she began pulling at the fabric, trying to turn it around. It wouldn’t budge. She kept pulling, but began to fear that she was going to rip the damn thing in half. She had already begun loosening the strings when she heard someone come in behind her. “Thank God… would you help me with this?” She pulled the corset off and tossed it over her shoulder to the intruder. She stood waiting, not wanting to turn around for fear that she would reveal herself, completely topless, to a stranger. “Uhmm… the breasts go in the front.”

“I’m quite familiar with where your breasts are, Miss Sylvan.” She recognized Jonathan’s smooth, calm tone and turned to look at him, but he gripped her arm, turning her back around roughly, as she had been. He leaned in close behind her, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered softly. He wound his arms around her waist, one hand sliding up her bare stomach to cup her breast, massaging it absently. “Did you miss me?”

She managed a breathless, “Yes,” and tried to turn again, but he held her tightly against him. “Where have you been?”

“Never you mind,” he rasped in her ear, accenting his words with a sharp twist of her nipple.

She groaned and arched back against him, rubbing her cheek against his, “I was worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself. You, on the other hand…” His voice got lost in the curve of her neck as he nibbled gently, “need someone to take care of you.” She could only mumble incoherently, lost in the feel of his skin against hers. “Did you get your medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take it all, like a good little girl?” He laughed softly in her ear and bit down on her earlobe.

“Every drop.” She wriggled out of his grasp and turned around quickly before he could stop her. She looked up into his piercing transparent stare, pausing for a moment as if trying to be sure it was him, and then attacking him with a frenzied kiss. She wound her fingers in the thick waves of his hair and pulled him closer in, taking his full lower lip between her teeth and biting it painfully. He returned her advances with a fevered desperation. Reaching down, he slid his hand beneath the short skirt she wore, grabbing her ass and pressing her hard against him. She gasped, feeling his arousal nudge against her center. Unable to stop, she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her across the tiny room and set her down on the makeup table brusquely. Their lips never parted as each one fumbled with their clothes. “Jonathan,” she gasped between kisses, “I have… I have to be on… in a few minutes… the door…it’s not locked.” Her voice protested, but the thought hadn’t seemed to stop her hand from pulling at his zipper.

“Forget the door…they’ll wait…” he growled, pushing the thin fabric of her underwear aside. “Because I am going to fuck you… right now…” He smothered her cries with his mouth as he pushed into her hurriedly.

“Oh my god… they’ll… hear... us…” she panted, arching up to meet his frantic thrusting.

“Do you really care?” He reached behind them, holding on to the mirror for leverage as he pounded into her harder.

“Yessss…” Her voice was cut short by an involuntary shriek and he slapped his hand over her mouth tightly.

“Ssssshhh… they’ll hear you,” he purred, gripping the sides of her cheekbones hard enough to bruise them. Over and over he drove into her until they both tumbled over the edge into a sweaty oblivion. He slowly took his hand away from her mouth, flicking his tongue playfully over her lips before stepping back and readjusting his clothes. He pushed his hair back from his eyes and picked up the satiny corset. “You’d better put this on.”

“Are you staying… to see the show?” She asked, wrapping the garment around her frame and turning around. She gestured to him to help her lace it up.

“I’m not sure I can.” He went to work lacing the corset, his thin, delicate fingers working quickly. “I wouldn’t want to run into any old enemies.”

“You won’t. And… I’d really like for you to stay.” She turned her head and looked at him, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. “You have to pull those strings tight.”

“Like this?” He raised his eyebrow and pulled with all his strength until she gasped.

“Not quite that tight,” she whimpered. “Loosen it just a little… it…”

“Hurts?” He smirked and tugged on the string playfully.

“Yes…and I can’t breathe…” Her voice wavered a little, still a bit nervous when he played these games.

“As you wish…” he loosened the strings and finished lacing. “There… all done. Turn around so I can look at you.”

Darcy turned so he could see her dressed in her little plaid skirt and corset. “How do I look?”

“Good enough to eat.” Before she could respond there was a knock at the door.

“Darcy! Two minutes!” a random male voice shouted through the door.

“I’m coming!” she answered, then caught the mischievous glint in Jonathan’s eye and laughed. “Again.” They both laughed and he pulled her into another kiss.

“I brought you something special for tonight,” he purred, locking his arm around her waist.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up. “I thought you gave me enough already.”

“Mmmm… no. You’re going to love this.” He held her tightly against him and nibbled on her earlobe sexily so that she wouldn’t notice when he pulled the tiny aspirator from his pocket and sprayed it quickly in her face. She tried to stumble backwards, but he held on to her, trapping her between himself and the table. She coughed, trying to get the burning substance out of her mouth and eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“Just relax…” He cradled her against him and stroked her hair gently. “Let it happen.” She jerked in his grasp momentarily, but seemed to relax after a few seconds. “Good girl. Just a little something to help you through your first performance.” He pointed her head so that she was looking at them in the mirror. “You’re so beautiful“ He brushed her hair back into place and wiped the smear of lipstick from her chin. “If you see anything… unusual… just close your eyes and it will go away.”

“Like what?” She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision.

“Whatever.” He kissed her forehead sweetly. “I’ll be waiting for you.” And as quickly as he’d come in, he was gone.