Four months earlier: December 1982

"Well this is....cozy."

Joker's breath stirred your hair as he spoke, and regardless of how unpredictable the clown could be, you knew instinctively that he was on the brink of laughter.

"Sssshh!" You hushed harshly, and without thought brought your hand up to cover his mouth.

Within the gloominess of the glorified closet, you could hardly see a damn thing. There was barely enough room for the two of you to hide, but you'd somehow managed to squash yourselves in together. So now you were standing toe-to-toe, with your chest pushed up against his.

Beneath your fingers you felt his lips twitch into a smile. In the fear of the moment you hadn't considered just how intimate the scenario was. Your priority had been to escape to safety from your pursuers, but now you were painfully aware of your proximity to the clown prince.

As your eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, you could make out the twinkling of his eyes. They gazed down at you; effervescent with mischief and suppressed mirth.
Outside, voices shouted frantically; steadily moving further away from your location.

After what felt like the longest few minutes of your life, you gradually felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ebb away. Your locked muscles relaxed as relief washed over you, making you let out an audible sigh.

"I think the coast is clear." You whispered; ears still straining to hear.

His painted eyebrow quirked in amusement, "Aw, that's too bad. I was just starting to enjoy myself."

It was hard ignoring such a suggestive remark. Your furious heartbeat had only just begun to calm down, and now it sped-up all over again.

Ignore it. That's all you had to do. Ignore it.

With cautious, slow movement you opened the door and quickly scanned the area. The corridor was deserted, and silent. Now was your chance to make a run for the exit.

But as you made to step out, a red-sleeved arm hooked around your waist and pulled you back inside. His sudden movement made you gasp slightly, as you found your back pulled against his chest.

"What the--what are you doing, Fleck?"

"I'm just making the most of this, uh--happy accident." He grinned crookedly, "What's the rush after all?"

"Are you kidding me? Those gunmen will be back any minute. We have to go now!"

"Hmf. Party-pooper."

Relinquishing his hold on your waist, this time you dragged him out with you; your hand having fisted into the soft material of his dress shirt.

"You're going to get me all creased." He grumbled, albeit playfully, "I've killed men for less you know."

"I don't doubt it."

You quickened your pace and Joker fell into step beside you, the pair of you brandishing your handguns.

"You get away with murder." He said, as he continued to glance behind the way you had came.

It wasn't the first time he'd said this, so you paid it very little mind. It was all part of the routine. The banter you exchanged whenever the two of you were alone.

Smiling to yourself, you answered the same way you always did, "Ditto, clown."

The two of you then broke into a run, knowing it was only a matter of time before your lives would be in danger once again.

This deal should've been relatively straight forward. You had accompanied Joker, along with a number of his goons to partake in an arms deal, but things had taken an extremely drastic turn.

Joker had been double-crossed before, but his reactions were always unpredictable. Regardless of the situation, he always had his revenge. And yet tonight, even with most of his men shot dead, instead of being blisteringly furious he seemed in surprisingly high spirits as you fled the abandoned warehouse.

You didn't want to dwell on it but he even seemed to relish having to run and hide in a closet with you to avoid being shot.

And as you raced across the parking lot; your booted feet pounding against the wet asphalt, you found yourself giggling along with him. Perhaps it was the relief of reaching the awaiting car, having narrowly escaped tonight with your life.

Or maybe you were being sucked into the rabbit hole of madness that was Joker's world.

How had you ended up in such a mess? That was an interesting question. One that you kept repeatedly asking yourself each time you wound up in a precarious situation with the nefarious Joker.

When you'd first started working for him two months ago, initially the job had entailed of little more than what you'd done at Lucky's casino. The only difference was Joker owned a club, The Jack Of Hearts, which lay on the main drag in The Narrows; one of Gotham's most crime-ridden, dangerous neighbourhoods.

What remained of the occupied apartment buildings in that part of town had basically become a slum; home to the city's poorest residents, and the district had a reputation serving as a denizen for the most violent criminals and mobsters.
These days however, The Narrows was Joker's dominion, along with Amusement Mile and parts of Otisburg. The clown prince of crime had steadily won supremacy over these areas as his army of followers continued to expand.

Your boyfriend Stephen had strongly objected to you accepting the unwitting crime lord's offer of employment, as had the new police commissioner and the chief down at the 75th precinct. But their reservations only served to steel your resolve. You were convinced you could handle working undercover in the toughest neighbourhood in town, and so far you'd proved yourself right.

At the club you had worked the bar and waited on guests. Serving them drinks whilst humouring their poor attempts at flirtation, and all the while you were making mental notes on the known criminals who frequented the place; reporting whatever useful information you could glean, back to your superiors.

The irony was, you were also covertly supposed to be gathering intel for Joker; who was to all intents and purposes your boss. As stressful as the job itself may have been, the working environment wasn't all that bad. Joker ruled over his establishment with an iron fist; security was tight, the guards removed any trouble-makers swiftly and effectively, because despite it being situated in the slums, The Jack Of Hearts clientele  consisted of only the most elite, powerful, and influential of Gotham's underworld.

After having worked there for over a month, you received word one day that the man himself wanted to speak with you.

"Am I in trouble?" You had joked, with Jack; Joker's most amiable goon.

"Not that I know of." He'd replied with an ominous smirk, which had severely unsettled you.

Your stomach clenched with anxiety. No matter how careful you were to keep up the pretence of being a mere bartender and informant, the fear of being discovered as an undercover cop always lurked at the back of your mind. It didn't bear thinking about what horrors might be inflicted on you, should the Joker come to realise he was being duped.

"Do you know something I don't? Come on man, if I'm about to get fired then at least give me a heads-up." You'd pressed Jack further, nervous to learn what might await you once you entered the clown's office.

"You think if you were gonna be fired he'd take the time to do it personally?" The large skinhead had laughed, clearly amused by your naivety. "Nah. My bet is you're about to be promoted."

You had halted dead in your tracks then. As if your heels had been glued to the ground.

"Wha--what kind of promotion?"

Jack grinned; flashing his gold grillz as he registered your look of alarm. "I don't know. Maybe he'll get you to cozy-up to some of the wannabe gangsters that come in here, and see what you can get outta them."

"What? No. I am not doing that--!"

"Relax it's a joke. Me and a couple of the boys suggested it..."

"Jack! You asshole!"

He had dissolved into laughter by then, as he continued to urge you onwards through the door that led to the back.

"....but we knew you wouldn't go for it. See. Looks like we were right!"

You huffed slightly, trying to regain some composure. Your nerves were beginning to unravel a little as a result of the pressure, and now the anticipation of what lay in store for you behind that oak-panelled door made you prickle with nerves.

"So what does he want with me, seriously?"

The man stopped walking and lowered his head, trying his hardest not to look conspiratorial. There were cameras all over the place after all.

"Look, its nuthin' to worry about. In fact if I didn't know better I'd think he has a bit of a soft spot for you."

"Me?" You'd practically laughed in the goon's face at that.

This was the Joker. He didn't possess a soft spot of any kind. Jack obviously had to be teasing you. You figured it had something to do with you being the new girl. Perhaps Joker's henchmen presumed you were naive, like so many of the other girls who worked at the club. Especially the ones who were employed to provide the patrons with entertainment.

More than once you'd overheard the whispered gossip amongst the scantily-dressed exotic dancers, who swooned over their employer like a bunch of smitten schoolgirls. But from what you'd gathered so far, Joker was fickle with his attentions. Whenever he graced the club with his presence he often had some glamorous young woman on his arm, but never was he seen with the same one more than once.

"That's a good one." You'd laughed, despite not finding the joke amusing at all. "Now come on! Be serious."

"I am being serious." Jack insisted, his expression bearing no hint of mockery. He looked deadly serious in fact. "The boss watches you. Okay so he watches everybody but he  watches you a lot. He's impressed by how you can handle yourself out there. But he wants you closer to him, if you catch my drift."

Your throat constricted slightly. A light sheen of perspiration breaking out on your forehead. Jack wasn't pulling your leg, and the reality of the situation sent a cold trickle of fear down your spine.

"I-I'm not sure I do actually. That's ridiculous. He has plenty of...female...company. In fact he has his pick of the girls that work here, they all seem to want a piece of him for some reason, so why the hell would he want me--?"

And then the door to his office had swung open, and the familiar red-suited figure stood before you; languidly dragging on a cigarette.

"Because you're different to all those other girls." He'd declared, a sinister grin curling his blood-red lips. "No wonder my ears were burning. Now how 'bout you step inside and hear me out before you jump to any more conclusions, hm?"

Oh hell. Jack hadn't been exaggerating when he'd warned you of the security cameras that were discreetly placed everywhere throughout the building. Obviously they picked up audio too, and he'd heard....well, you couldn't be sure how much he had heard, but even the smallest amount was enough.

Trepidation had gathered in the pit of your stomach as you cautiously stepped inside his domain. The office was decorated surprisingly tastefully in shades of burgundy and teal; the two contrasting colours complimenting each other somehow.
TV monitors lined the shelves which ran along the side wall; some set to remain on one area, while others flipped between place to place. In the corner of the room sat an antique drinks cabinet, filled with various spirits and liquors. On the opposite side, a leather chesterfield sofa was positioned against the wall, and in the centre of the room sat his enormous mahogany desk.

"Drink?" He'd offered casually as he closed the door, rendering the two of you alone.

"Not while I'm working." You'd replied, ensuring to feign an apologetic smile.

"Ever the professional. That's what I admire about you Ace, your strong work ethic. Which is why you're here."

He sauntered back behind his desk and sunk into the lavish wing-backed chair.

"Is there a problem with my work?"

His smile slowly increased, making him appear even more devilish. "No. Weren't you paying attention? I just said I admire your dedication to your work. You uh, you're pretty adept when it comes to tackling the lowlifes who try groping you."

Your (e/c) eyes had widened at that, which drew a throaty chuckle from him.

"Oh yes.  I have eyes everywhere. I see what goes on. Security would be constantly having to deal with the pricks who try to touch you up, if it weren't for you handling yourself so well."

Was he commending you? It sounded very much like he was. What else did he expect though? For you to allow each roaming hand to glide up your leg? To tolerate having your ass grabbed whenever you passed by a booze-fuelled scumbag who believed he was entitled to touch you?

"I saw the way you took down Frankie that night at Lucky's." He'd continued contemplatively, as his intense green gaze came to rest on your face, "You've had some kind of specialist training. Your reflexes are quick as a cat. You're no doubt stealthy as one too. Those kinda skills prove useful to have around."

"But I am around." You'd pointed out, rather needlessly.

He had laughed loudly then, the pitch of it making you jolt. Of course it didn't make you jolt anymore; you having grown accustomed to his myriad of laughs. Joker seemed to have an entire catalogue of them. Each one sounding different.

"I mean around me, Ace. You have potential."

"Potential. Potential for what exactly?"

"I want you to accompany me on a job. Not as a bodyguard exactly, but seeing as you've saved me once already from a lowlife who wanted to be hailed as the guy who took down Joker....well, you could be my ace in the hole. I mean, who would suspect a pretty little thing like you? They'll think you're arm-candy, nothing more. Then if things start to turn sour that's when you can........do your thing."

And that's exactly what you had done. Albeit reluctantly. And ever since then you had somehow slipped into the role of Joker's assistant, right-hand man, and glorified bodyguard. You accompanied him to all of his business meetings, shady deals, and drop-offs.

The information you learned was priceless, and you played the role of confidante so well he often shared private jokes with you, and even allowed you glimpses of the man behind the makeup. The real Arthur Fleck.

"So, Ace, what are we doing for Christmas?"

He dropped that rather disconcerting bombshell on you, on Christmas Eve.

Working undercover meant no face-to-face contact with any friends or loved ones, which of course was even harder at this time of year. You'd anticipated spending Christmas alone in front of the TV. At best you'd be permitted a phone call to Stephen. At worst, well, at worst there was this.......having Joker presume the two of you would be spending the holidays together.

"W-well I.......don't have anything planned really. I'm not big into the holidays." You lied, with a shrug of the shoulder. "It's just another day to me."

"You're not spending it with your family? A........boyfriend?"

"No."

"Well we can't have you spending Christmas all by yourself now can we?" He leaped out of his chair and pranced into the centre of the room. His body language exuding a sense of childlike giddiness that would've been contagious....that is if he hadn't been proposing you spend the holidays with him.

"You want to spend Christmas with me?"

"It makes sense don't ya' think? You're alone, I'm alone..." He gestured wildly between yourself and him, "...We are friends after all. I do consider you as more than just a work colleague, Ace."

Oh holy hell.

What were you supposed to say to that? You weren't his friend, not really, but you could hardly say so. You couldn't even begin to fathom where the crazy idea had come from. Perhaps he had come to be so reliant on you of late, that he was now dependant on your company. After all, he ran every decision by you; everything from asking your thoughts on the latest arms deal, to what he should eat for lunch.

Part of you had even begun to wonder if he liked this dependence. But to blur the lines by spending time with him away from the working environment seemed so wrong.

"Don't you have your own friends to visit?" You ventured, feeling suitably perplexed, "I mean, isn't there a lady friend? Who's the latest, um, Monica, is it?"

He looked thoughtful, chewing the inside of his mouth, "The leggy brunette?"

You stared at him aghast. Did he seriously not remember her name? The woman had been sitting sprawled on his lap only the night before.

"Wow. You're something else, Fleck."

"Why thank you." He smiled as if you were bestowing him with a huge compliment, even though he knew it wasn't meant as one really. "Well, I'm not spending Christmas with her. Why would I do that?"

You sighed, gathering up your old purse and coat, "Don't ask me. I'm not responsible for what or who you do. But why even encourage them, if you don't intend to get to know them better?"

Joker became antsy then, dragging a large hand through his emerald curls, "I don't know. Maybe it's because I get lonely but none of them interest me. They're all so alike. It gets kinda boring."

"Gee, I'm sure they'd love to hear you say that."

"Look you're changing the subject, doll. We're not talking about Monique--"

"Monica." You corrected, secretly enjoying the way his jaw perceptibly tightened.

"Whatever. Now, Christmas. I was thinking maybe........your place?"

"Wait, what? No. It's only a one bed apartment, and I haven't even decorated yet. It's a new place, I haven't been there long."

Despite your best efforts, he wouldn't be deterred and your heart sank.

"Fine." He huffed, rolling his eyes in the exaggerated fashion he so often did; pretending he was more exasperated than he actually was. "My place then. I'll send a car for you, say....around six?"

You frowned, not even bothering to hide your bewilderment, "You mean.......tonight?"

"Well yeah. Why, is that a problem?" A mischievous smirk tugged the corners of his lips upwards, "D'you need to call your mom and ask her if you can bunk over?"

To your annoyance you felt your face heat up. You couldn't even begin to conceive why. So the Joker was inviting you to stay over at his place. Your chief at the GCPD would be aghast at such a suggestion, not to mention how incensed Stephen would be if he were to find out.

But........it was purely platonic, you reasoned with yourself. Save for the odd suggestive remark and the occasional lingering touch when you'd successfully pulled-off a business deal together or gotten out of a tight spot, your relationship was strictly business only.

So, feeling backed into a corner, you agreed to spend Christmas with the Joker.

>>---------------------------------------->>

"Hey there, sleepyhead. Did you sleep well?"

You blinked as the morning sunlight streamed in through the long windows, and rubbed your eyes.

"Like a baby, thank you."

"Good!" He bounced on his heels like an excitable puppy, before darting forward and grasping you by the hands, "C'mon then, scoot on over here. Have a seat."

The touch of his large hands grasping yours felt foreign, as you allowed him to guide you over to the couch in his elaborate living room.

This was by far the most bizarre Christmas you'd ever had. Not least because you'd had to keep things formal by getting dressed before coming downstairs. Ordinarily at home you'd still be in your pajamas now.

Joker on the other hand hadn't felt the need for such formality, other than to keep his face painted. You tried desperately hard not to stare at the way he was dressed casually in baggy lounge pants, and a white t.shirt.

It felt a lot like you'd slipped into some strange parallel universe.

The evening before had been surprisingly pleasant. He'd laid on a lavish dinner, presumably prepared by his own personal chef, which was served in the dining room; complete with fine wine, candlelight and soft music.

Joker's home was just as elaborate as he himself was. A beautiful gothic Victorian townhouse in Otisburg; right in the centre of old Gotham village.
To an outsider, at first glance the homely domestic scene could be wrongly perceived as romantic, what with the candles, roaring fire, and beautifully decorated fir tree which commandeered a full corner of the lounge.

But his goons were ever-present. They stood guard in the hall, and outside the front and back doors.

He'd actually remarked at one point how he would've preferred the privacy of your apartment, but that was an intimacy you couldn't have allowed. Even though the apartment wasn't your real home address, to have him there would be considered a potential breach of your security and safety. And besides, there was absolutely no call for the two of you to be alone.

"Merry Christmas, Ace." He handed you a Christmas card, which immediately made you feel bad.

"Oh I-I, didn't think we were doing cards." You blushed as you awkwardly tore open the envelope.

He hadn't struck you as the kind of guy who'd go for Christmas cards. You'd wrongly assumed he'd find the notion too absurdly sentimental. Now you felt a bit of a jackass.

"Don't worry about it." He waved a dismissive hand, "Your Christmas bonus is in there, and uh..." His raspy voice lowered, as he leaned in to whisper, "....it's quite a lot more than what the others get so...keep schtum about it, okay? We don't wanna piss the boys off. Favouritism and all that."

"Fleck this is--this is too much!" You protested, seeing the amount scrawled on the check. "I can't accept this--"

"Sure you can. You've earned it. Need I remind you we had to run for our lives and hide in a fucking cupboard last week?"

"How could I forget."

You watched as he sprung up, grabbing the only gift from beneath the tree.

"And uh, I wanted to get you a little something too. To show my appreciation."

You eyed the parcel dubiously, as he placed the exquisitely wrapped box in front of you. Whatever it was you already felt wretched. The only thing you'd bought for him was a toy gun that fired out a flag with the word BANG on it. You'd purchased it on a whim, as a bit of a joke. At the time you hadn't expected to be exchanging gifts with him on Christmas Day.

"Wow. I wonder what this could be!" You exclaimed, theatrically. Expecting it to be an elaborate joke. He was the Joker after all. In all honesty you expected a whoopee cushion, wind-up teeth, or a pack of sweets; the kind that turned your mouth blue.

He flashed a cheeky smile, watching intently as you pulled at the bow. You took off the lid and....

"OH MY GOD!"  You squealed, in unabashed delight.

It was a vintage designer purse. The one you'd always dreamed of owning but could never justify buying. Hell, it was at least a $1000's worth of purse.

"I can't....Fleck, I can't--"

"Spit it out." He said impatiently, looking a little worried, "You can't what? Isn't it the right one?"

You were struggling to speak due to shock. Words were eluding you.

"Yes it's the right one but...shit.....I can't accept this. I want to, but it's too much--!"

"Well I don't want it." He snickered, "C'mon Ace, I wanted to treat you. I'm not exactly the easiest boss to work for. Even I know that."

Turning to face him, you gazed at his painted face in wonder.

"H-how did you know about the purse?"

He looked decidedly pleased with himself now, as he winked at you, "Told you. I have eyes and ears everywhere."

You couldn't contain yourself any longer. You've no idea what came over you but you got up and suddenly found yourself practically leaping into his arms; squeezing him tight.

You'd never felt so utterly disarmed in all your life. How could it be that the man capable of such deplorable acts of violence, was also capable of such sweetness?
It wasn't the fact he'd bought you an eye-wateringly expensive purse, it was the fact that he'd listened.

Okay, so some might've found that creepy, but for whatever reason he'd paid attention and remembered, obviously having overheard your conversation with one of the girls at the club, when you'd spoken of what your ideal dream gift would be.

It's the fact that in spite of everything, he valued you.

"Thank you, Fleck. You shouldn't have. It-it's so thoughtful."

You looked up and accidentally met his jade green eyes; their colour more emphasised by the stark blue diamonds that framed them perfectly.

Joker just stared back, as though mesmerised by your very existence.

"You're worth it, doll. I love to see you smile."

An unmistakable fluttering in your stomach made you suddenly all too aware of his arms wrapped around you. Like a butterfly unfurling it's wings.
Your senses seemed to all come alive at once; the sturdiness of his lithe body, the spicy scent of his cologne mingled with cigarettes and gunpowder.

He had a scent that was so distinctly him, and you'd grown to like it. Especially the gunpowder. It was as if it were ingrained into his very skin, and you found it thrilling and unarguably kind of sexy.

He smelt of danger and it was exciting.

And for the first time you realised just how much danger you were actually in, and it wasn't in the way you'd expected.

It wasn't your life you were at risk of losing, but your heart.