Genevieve shivered convulsively and pulled the thick jacket around her chest tightly. She couldn't remember the last time she actually shivered from the cold rather than fear, and it was soothing, in a way, to be able to control her warmth. She only wished she could do the same for her nerves.

The wide, wooden planks creaked tiredly beneath her tennis shoes, and she concentrated a bit too intently on the noise. She wouldn't let him intimidate her. The only reason she had come out here with him was because the thought of being left alone in his lair, or whatever he liked to call it, terrified her beyond belief. She never wanted to set foot into her room again, let alone that building entirely. Now, walking beside him at a considerable five foot distance, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake when running to him for comfort.

They walked silently, and she began to open her ears up to her surroundings. She heard the sinister, yet strangely relaxing noise of waves crashing against the pier's massive wooden beams, and she let the current wash away any thought that had to do with the task at hand. She jumped slightly as she heard the noise of other footsteps behind her, and she glanced uneasily over her shoulder. She saw two men carrying something between them in what appeared to be a large, black bag, and the sight gave her a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She closed the gap between her and Two-Face by three feet. She couldn't help it.

"Those men work for me," he said quietly, not turning his head to look at her as they walked. "You don't have to worry. I made it perfectly clear to them how that body got into that bag."

Her stomach dropped at the memory, and she hugged her arms. She tried to pass the action as a response to the cold night air, but he didn't seem to fall for it.

"Genevieve," he began. His deep voice was completely seriously as he stopped in his tracks. It was incredibly strange hearing him say her name that way. The utter seriousness of his tone sent something coursing through her body, and she wasn't exactly sure what it was. He turned to face her, and she flinched slightly, still not completely used to the direct sight of him. The men behind them stopped as well, and he turned his head towards them.

"Go ahead. We'll be here," he said to the men. They grunted as they dropped the body onto the creaky planks with a morbid thud. They began to drag the heavy bag on the floor, and then passed her and Two-Face silently. As she watched them go, she heard his voice again, and her eyes darted immediately toward his face.

"Genevieve," he repeated. His good eye was gazing at her with a deep intensity, and it reminded her of the day she first laid eyes on him. She shuddered, and her hands immediately occupied themselves by rubbing her jacketed arms.

"This man, this… this perverted bastard tried to rape you," he gestured vacantly towards the bag dragged by the two men, and his voice was filled with nothing but disgust. She looked down. She didn't need to be reminded. "I understand why what I did to him bothers you, but don't you see? This is what you should want, Genevieve. He got exactly what was coming to him—a bullet in his skull."

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She felt like what he was saying was right, and the fact alone scared her. He had killed a man. For her. She would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn't relieved, but there was something so twisted about this entire exchange that she couldn't stop trembling. She was not supposed to feel relief. She was supposed to be furious for being thrust into this hell against her own will, regardless of what further dangers she had managed to avoid. She remained silent in the sudden fury that topped her despair, and through her peripheral vision, she saw him look down at her in sympathy. She bit her lip, entirely frustrated. How can he have the nerve to even display any sign of compassion? If he really, truly felt sorry for her, why didn't he just let her go? Despite her lingering fear of the man, her emotions took hold of her best judgment. She looked straight into his eyes, only flinching a little when she caught direct sight of his mutilated half.

"Why…" Genevieve began, as hot, angry tears began to stream down her eyes, "do you care? Why do you care if I'm raped? Why do you care if I'm fed? Why do you care if I'm comfortable?" Her words were filled with venom, and she saw his eyes widen from surprise. Her inner voice was urging her to stop, but her anger only drove her to continue without fear of the effect of her words. Her voice escalated until she was practically yelling, the tears running messily down her face and onto the floor. "You took everything away from me! My family, my career, my life! And you expect me to… to…" she gasped, finally comprehending the full extent of her words. She shielded her face as the tears slipped through her fingers, beginning to wail in complete misery and terror. She was going to die here. She was going to die in his world, whether someone kills her or she does it herself. She fell onto the rotting planks and continued to cry hysterically, inwardly begging to wake up to find herself in her aunt's home.

She laid there for what felt to her like hours until her wild sobs denigrated into gasps and whimpers. Everything around her was silent, and she wondered if her wish had come true. She prayed that she had just fallen out of her bed and onto her aunt's hardwood floors after a long, vivid nightmare. She prayed that the cold, biting air she felt was just the malfunctioning air conditioner that sometimes kept her shivering at night. She prayed that the hesitant footsteps that were making their way toward her were those of her beloved aunt's, who was coming to comfort her after her horrible, lucid dream. She clasped her hands tightly together and prayed with all of her might that all of these things were true, and that she was about to hear a warm, familiar voice telling her that everything was going to be alright. She instead heard a whisper, and her chest tightened.

"Genevieve… I'm so, so sorry..." The voice was wracked with guilt, and she came crashing back to reality.