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Spoilers: Nothing specific, really.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and . If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Gotham is full of interesting people. One of them just happens to be dead.
Author's note: Title adapted from A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Jack Shall Have Jill, and All Shall Go Ill
She's pretty, but I suppose I can overlook that.
As playmates go, she's the most fun I've had in a very, very long time, and I consider myself a very fun person. No one else around me usually does, but that's their problem, or it would be if they were still alive, which they usually aren't. That's their loss, though. Literally.
But this one, she's… different. Oh, not that I'm hearing the twang of Cupid's bow or anything as putridly insipid as that. I'm not the type for love, chaotic though it may be in its own little way, but I prefer to be pulling the strings, not some cherub in a diaper. No, I'm just thrilled to have met somebody whose sense of anarchy and insanity rivals my own.
She's, well, she's just plain fun is what she is. I'd had doubts about her at first, I admit it, but then there are times I have doubts about the world revolving or whether I wants to drink coffee in the morning or bathe in it. Her wardrobe wasn't much, not to my taste anyway, and the vacant stare she gets sometimes made me wonder if she was on something, and frankly I think that's cheating. If you're going to be nuts, be nuts, but don't blame it on some crack pipe. But no, no, she is 100% pure, unadulterated grade-A, prime wacko. It was right about the time that she tied me up and threatened to set me on fire unless I'd play tea party with her when I started to think she had definite possibilities. Yeah, right about then.
She's never asked my name, which I like. Names are stupid. They give nice little boundries to things, and I don't like those. I always liked coloring outside the lines best, and not necessarily with crayons, and you know, she actually showed me some new tricks. Little things, pretty patterns for knives, how to make people scream on key and in harmony. Hell, if she wants to put dolls around the place and drink who knows what out of little porcelain teacups, well, it adds to the atmosphere.
Jack's gotta have Jill when he falls down the hill or what's the point of all that damn water in the first place? Everything's a game with her, everything, especially eating. Oh, I do love to watch her find something good for an evening snack, and she always manages to surprise me. There's no pattern at all, nothing. One time, it was all about blondes, then the next day she tried to down a Clydesdale. Then she didn't have anything for almost a week, didn't even move the whole time. I thought she'd gone catatonic on me, but no, just playing a new game. When she woke up, she went after me. Wasn't expecting that at all.
I enjoyed it, though. Quite the experience, very… intimate. I heard a lot of things playing in my brain when it happened, all of them interesting. The possibilities. Endless, endless possibilites stretching right out to the horizon and into the infinite. Oh, the fun we're going to have.
Who needs the sun, anyway?