I Cannot Leave
"Do you love mother?" The voice is tiny, sharp, and inquisitive. With such a meek voice, the warden was sure to miss it. He didn't. His shoes clip against the concrete. The surface of his glassy wine-eye staring down at the equally shaded eyes. The girl straightens her posture, her arms dawning to nervously cross behind her back, but she holds her chin up, defining herself to the taller man. She's beautiful. She's quizzical, and so Joker would bluntly smile.
"To a certain extent. When I'm feeling generous, of course. What makes you ask this?" Joker's voice is far from comforting, but he tries for this particular child. He'd wait for an answer, to only watch the child's head tilt to the side; studying him.
"Well," The child clears her throat, her eyes widening to the man's display of a crooked smile. She keeps her stance, keeping her chin up when she speaks clear as day; it's almost challenging, "I'm just – curious."
"A dangerous notion, I'm sure." Joker taunts, and the girl is quick to frown on his retort. "Fine. Ask away, child." He's patient this time around, and he waits for the little girl to gather her thoughts, to quickly comprehend that she grasped the warden's full observation, his complete undivided attention; he keeps his smile; that silver-tongued way, that he could never denounce.
The girl wants to stammer, not out of fear, but out of phrasing on how she could casually approach the situation. The question was innocent enough, but the warden demanded a reason behind such a question. "Well, you and mother yell a lot." The child notes and Joker folds his arms over his chest at that. "Mother looks so sad when she comes down here, also."
Velvet quickly kisses the child's cheeks; she's quick to embarrassment when Joker tilts his head to her. He'd kneel to her level and the child quickly walks closer to touch his uniform coat, straightening out the fabric like her mother would do for him every time they'd came to visit. "Sad? Do you hate coming down here also? Justly so, child." The warden grins hard, but the child's features are unchanged; she finds the ground more interesting then to retrieve an answer for the man that is so fixated on her face.
"I'm never upset when I get to visit you, Papa." Joker could never keep a straight face, and he keeps the plastered glint firm against his lips; demon kissed, faltering reality; his smile is idealistic, but his daughter is so use to the look he gives – she finds no fear in his single eye, nor the twisted grin he gives her. It's all loving to her accord.
"You must despise the environment. The answer is written plain on your face, love." The warden chuckles deep from within his ribcage. His hand moves to cradle the back of her head, thumbing through the velvet strands that draped over her slender shoulders. His daughter's eyes are full and peeked with such mirth, he'd be damned if that characteristic came from him, but from the mother that harbored natural colors of sky blue eyes and dirty-blonde hair; her smile treads like an ocean line. Always coming and going.
The child falls into his touch and she waits for his other hand to cradle her cheek. He lovingly strokes his rough hand against the porcelain of her face; the child brims with such glee and her eyes flutter to close and bask in his memory, their moment as father and daughter; her small fingertips trace the outline of his knuckles, cupping the back of his hand while he graces her face with his hand. "No, Papa." The child whispers, keeping her eyes closed to his warmth that huddles close.
"Do you intend to lie to your father, love?" His thumb trails a map against the hollow of her cheek. "You do realize how much I dislike the idea of you – lying to me." The man hides his bitterness through his mad-stricken smile.
"I dislike the idea of you staying down here all the time, Papa. I – I don't like it here. It's dark. It's –"The child finally opens her ruby eyes, and she holds her breath when she feels her father press against the back of her head to bring her in close to his face. She seems hopeless, and deliria sits in when his lips touch the top of her head, then he presses his forehead to hers.
"I'd rather have you tell me the truth rather than lie." He'd frown, but the expression is short-lived and retreats to stoic intentions.
"Yes, Papa." His daughter nuzzles against his forehead and she's quick to wrap her arms about his neck; silently requesting for him to carry her down the amble halls that house the prisoners. She'd hide her face in the crook of neck, refusing to glare at the men that bore their animal faces; voice muffled by the cotton. Suffocating. Crying. Laughing. Prisoners rake at the bars and their sounds are haunting and chimed with ill intent.
"To answer your question –"The warden chuckles, and his daughter eases to his voice, "I do not hate your mother. We do not hate each other. I believe there is an understanding of love. A man with a clock could betray the idea of love –"
"- But, I enjoy the sound of your clock, Papa." He's cut off by that same meek voice.
"And I, enjoy the heart that's under the floor of your chest."
"And you can't leave the prison. You can't leave the circus." His daughter mutters against his shoulder, her delicate fingers picking at his uniform; her legs dangle freely and he holds her close to his being.
"I cannot." He informs.
The two continue down the hall of the twisting hell and consuming darkness of the jail cells. Alice waits at the end of the halls. Smiling, waiting and Joker endures her idea with his crooked, evil smile.
His daughter once heard a story where the princess fell for the villain. The idea seemed taboo, even sickening. Though, his daughter did not mind. The child loved her father, even if his role was the most dishonest existence to ever fathom.
A/N: Well – that was fun. Time to write rated M fanfics now. I just did this for the fun.