The Asylum Archives
Meeoko
Summary : Set after Dark Knight. The Joker is in custody at a local asylum. Doctor's are beginning to see him in a different light. But are they his true colours, or are lies just as binding as a straightjacket?
Author's Note's : M'kay. Well, I know I should be working on other over-due projects, but once again, the brilliance of The Joker has managed to captivate me and convinvce me to pull an all-nighter, put off my Ceramics essay, edit this at least six times due to a faulty internet connection and still love every second of it.
A different writing style to my first Joker fic, but an entirely new way of thinking.
Bare with me! The lack of description and bombarding dialogue will make perfect sense at the end of the last chapter. I promise you! It's not just me turned into an onvernight crap writer or anything.
My continuing tribute to one of the worlds most incredible and influential actors, Heath Ledger.
Apparently, my new writing muse is a masochistic, crazy, pyromaniac clown! And that in itself is weird, because I'm scared of clowns.
"Test subject number 275, May 15th 2008. Time is three thirty five. Name unknown, alias of Joker. Subject has been heavily medicated under strict supervision act. Currently serving a lifetime sentence, subject shows no sign of improvement since admission six months ago."
Click!
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm afraid you won't be necessary today."
"You sure, mam? This guy's pretty unstable."
"Yes, thank you. Restraints are need enough and I trust the patient has been medicated?"
"Yes, mam."
"Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all."
"Just call us if you need anything, mam. We'll be right outside the door."
"Thank you."
Click!
"I get the feeling they don't like me very much."
"Well, Mr. Joker, it is justifiable for them to do so. It is difficult for Gotham to forget, even after all this time.
"Now, I would like to begin where we left off the last time we spoke. Details are still patchy and we would like to clear up the after-math as best we-"
"Hey, doc? Just a thought. What uh, what did your parents tell you when you were younger, when you were about to go to sleep?
"Was it, uh....was it to watch out for the bed-bugs? To sleep tight? That they....that they, uh, love you?
"Mr. Joker, that is irrelevant."
"Not so, counsellor. Not so. I find that it is in fact extreemly relevant indeed. And uh, you think you could give it a rest with the uh, the whole 'Mr' title? Never did like it much. Just cos I don't have a name, doesn't mean you can slap some 'Mr. Joe Bloggs' label on me! Makes me feel old."
"Certainly. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand-"
"Upp, upp, upp! Councellor, you didn't answer my question...."
"Mr- Joker. If you please, I would like to get the remaining details from you about the incident concerning Miss Dawson on the night of November-"
"Rules and regulations, counsellor. Rules and regulations. I don't keep track of this sort of thing. Most of this is just....second guessing! I don't plan, counsellor. I don't plot. And if I can't plan or plot – then I won't need to remember every single, little detail.
"Now would you, uh, mind answering my question please?"
".....Joker, if you continue-"
"I bet you were an 'I Love You' kinda kid, right? One'a those lucky little things that had a big cushy bed with stars on it and a smiling blonde mommy who tucked you in every night and told you that the stars didn't shine as brightly as you did."
".........What is your point?"
"My point? My point? Hahaha! What a load'a goddamn bullshit! That is my point! There's no room for love in this world! Not with all the big scary bad men and the murderers and thieves and...uh, the Global Warming and the littering and God knows what else! Look, counsellor, I am not making a statement – simply repeating a fact."
"And you think that this is true?"
"Uh, well....yeah. I mean, it's all just a big farce. Now, those street kids – the ones with no Mommies and Daddies who live in cardboard boxes? Those kids are gonna grow up smart. They don't have the illusion of love to blind their judgement or mess with their heads."
"And you don't...love anything yourself?"
"Ah, Counsellor, how misguided you are. Don't worry – you're still young yet. You'll learn sooner or later. But no. No. I do not.....love. No."
"And why is that?"
"Uh, well, because love. Is. A. Farce. Haven't you been listening? There was no good night kiss for me, Counsellor. Nobody to tuck me in all snug an' warm. No, nothing like that."
"Your parents weren't around when you were a child?"
"Well, one of them at least. But, uh, he wasn't really what you'd uh, you'd call a 'role model'. I mean, put it this way - I'm what the world got after he decided he was done being a father figure. You do the math."
"Your father?"
"Father, no. Biological father, yes. But I'd be lying if I said my father wasn't a big influence."
"How so?"
"Humm....well, uh, Daddy wasn't exactly the nicest guy around, shall we say? If I may actually be a little more, uh, serious – my father was the devil.
"Your father mistreated you?"
"That's a bit of a stupid question, Counsellor, if I may be so bold. Would I really be here right now if I grew up as a proper model citizen?"
"Can you tell me about your childhood?"
"Ahhh. Now I see. I just wanted the answer to my question, but you turned it around on me and now.....you're shrinking me. Touché, Counsellor, touche. I gotta be honest, I didn't even realise you were doing it. Although, I guess that is your job. I mean, you get paid for it and you can afford your big house and your cushy car, right? And your smile and politeness all point to the possibility that you might actually see me as a human being. But we both know that's not true. No. I'm not much of a people person. And considering that's what you're trained to do and you know I can't just get outt'a here and strangle you like I really am quite tempted to do, you figure you'll be nice and pleasant?"
"Please, Joker. Nobody is 'shrinking' you. If you don't wish to continue, I won't push you. Here, you are free to be who you want to be. I have no intention of misusing any information you give me. I only want to try to figure out why you did what you did."
"So, you wanna know about....me?"
"Yes."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"What would you, uh, like to know? That is, if I am willing to divulge. I can't have my whole history getting out, ya know. Loses part of the mystique. Plus, this stuff you guys have pumped into me every hour on the hour is making things a little...fuzzy, to say the least."
"Of course. Let's go back to your father."
"My father. My father...was a drinker. My father was a lot of things."
"...Go on."
"In your warm, cushy bed, Counsellor, did you ever wake up in the middle of the night as a child, with a pillow over your face and the most terrifying voice you can imagine telling you to go to back to sleep? Well, uh, I have. I think Daddy had just a little too much to drink that night.
Just like every night."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What about your mother? Was she around much during your childhood?"
"Ah, Mom – now there's a different story. Well, Mommy changed every three days. With uh, longer legs, or a bigger ass – you know, to keep up appearances?
But uh, they always got younger and dirtier looking each time. And they always had plans. They all wanted'ta get married, move away, have kids, get rid'a me - obviously.
"....Or at least, they wanted ta do that after they quit the crack. And they uh, well, they never did. Never got the chance to."
"Was your father an addict?"
"I remember once one'a them was wearing purple. I always did like the colour purple. But then Daddy lost his temper and her clothes weren't purple for much longer."
"Joker?"
"I don't know what happened to the real one. Daddy used'ta tell me as a bedtime story that Mommy was rotting underneath the bed, waiting for me ta stick my foot out so that she could grab it and suck out the life that should have been hers.
I never slept very well as a child. Still don't."
"You felt your father held you responsible for her death?"
"I've noticed over the years, that I picked up a few things from my father.
Like knives. I've always liked knives.
"You know what I mean, Counsellor? There's just something more....personal about them. Something that connects people. Something that says;
"I took time outt'a my busy day to make sure you at least get to see the person who's killing you.
"Something solid. That binds people together through flesh and blood. But there's not much use bonding with someone when they're bleeding to death in your kitchen. That's why I moved around a lot. Too much to clean up."
"Do you remember the last place you lived?"
"I live for the moment, Counsellor. Not for the places or the people. Another thing I inherited from Daddy. The practicality."
"Yes?"
"Sure, it was a little scarier when I was five and he used to scrape his fingernails down the door when I was sleeping. He said it was to test my reflexes. And if I didn't come'ta the door within five seconds, he would."
"Was your father abusive?"
"I forget. I remember that there was always the smell of uh, what is it? You know, that weird mix of tobacco and paint thinner? Maybe I was just high off the fumes, I don't know. It's hard to tell these days, always on these goddamn pills and locked up in a cage."
"Joker?"
"He was a practical man. That was probably why he used to switch Mommy's so much. Too many young ones come through and they just aren't...enough, ya know? No use lettin' em go back out into the world and make the same mistakes again now, is there? No, no. What a waste. But then again, I've had a few girls like that before. One'a them swallowed a bunch of Arsenic - took me days to clean that up!"
"Joker?"
"That's why he used'ta love the knives so much. The last moments were the most human. But that was the kind of man he was. Practical."
"Joker..."
"I HATED my father!"
"...........Patient is showing a slightly violent reaction towards the Carbomazapine. Pupils fully dilated, speech a little slurred-"
"Oh, come on Doc. Right now?"
"-but reflexes seem to be kept in tact. Patient response seems to have increased, with a dramatic increase in violent behaviour within the last month. With the given energy of the patient and the loss of temper, I feel it is safest to reschedule this session for a later date."
"Violent? Oh, come on. I'm a nice guy, really. Violent seems a little too.......mob villain, you knw what I mean? And I'm no mob dealer. No, no. No, there has to be something more personal for me. I'm not organised enough. I don't even know why they call it organised crime! It's more like...spontaneous crime. Or at least that's how I see it."
Bzzt!
"Seargent, could you please escort the patient from the premises? Thank you."
"You know, Counsellor, you're not a very good listener."
"Test subject number 275, May 29th 2008. Time is twelve fifteen. Name unknown, alias of Joker. Under the influence of Carbomazapine, subject has shown a vast increase in violent activity and hallucinations. Little headway has been made understanding the Dawson, Dent and Gordon cases."
Click!
"Same again please, gentlemen. I'll call you if I need your assistance."
"I don't like this, m'am. You shouldn't be getting too comfortable around this guy."
"Thank you, Seargent, but I understand the seriousness of my situation. Now if you please."
"You're certain, m'am?"
"I think the lady said no, Seargent. Jeez, you fishing for a date that badly?"
"Shut it, Circus Freak!"
"Sergeant, please! Do not antagonise my patient."
"Yes m'am. My apologies."
Click!
"Bye then."
"Joker. How are you feeling?"
"Good. Good. Having a needle in your ass three times a day and countless pills shoved down your throat in a tiny padded room with no daylight really does tend'ta keep ya on your toes. But that's what you want, isn't it? To keep me on my back?"
"It is as much for your own safety as ours."
"Mhm, riiiight. Once again, Counsellor, your assumptions have failed you. You see, I'm not that kinda' guy. It's kill or be killed out there and I intend to stay in the game for quite a while longer."
"Mr. Joker – in our last meeting, you spoke to me about your father. Would you like to continue today?"
"Again with the 'mister'! Jesus, it's in one ear out the other with you people."
"Alright, Joker. Well, I'd actually like to speak with you about your brainwave tests. Are you aware the recently, you have been given shock therapy treatment?"
"Ya know, I might've noticed once upon a time. But now I just try not to fall asleep and maybe keep an eye out for something to carve open your pretty face with."
"You uhm, you weren't aware of your treatment?"
"No."
"Do you know why this might be?"
"I'm a lucky man, Counsellor. A very lucky man. Pain....is like the human mind. It is just like anything else, with its limits and its rules and exceptions. I assure you, it's quite easy to conquer pain, Counsellor. You get punched or stabbed or shot enough times and pain really doesn't keep as close tabs on you as it used to."
"So, you claim to be immune to pain?"
"I don't claim anything, Counsellor. Have you been listening to a thing I've said? As I said before, it's not an opinion but a fact. Like the air we breathe, or gravity or why dog's and cat's hate each other! It's just......science."
"And when did this begin to occur?"
"What? No pain? After a while, it got pretty easy to forget about pain. I have quite a talent for it now. I got hit in the back with'a two by four with a nail stickin' out once – didn't feel a thing. Sure it was a job gettin' the thing out after, but the guy who swung it looked much worse.
"Poor guy. Quite a big mess. Too bad he had to go and be so....human."
"Human?"
"Does uh, does that word even.....apply to me anymore?
Sometimes, I don't think so. I'm not like other people, you see. No. Well, apart from the burning and the murdering and the stealing and the yada yada yada, I'm still a little bit different."
"Can you explain what you're referring to, Joker?"
"Well, you see - I'm an opportunist. I don't....plan for things or scheme or plot. I always did keep telling people just how futile their attempts to control things are. Because there's always one element that can send plans and schemes crashing down to earth.
And that! That....is chaos.
"Ya know, I always did like chaos. You could count on it to be fair. Fifty fifty. Sometimes Daddy would come up the stairs with the big needle, and sometimes he wouldn't."
"Chaos is not fair, Joker. Chaos may be powerful in the hands of someone like yourself. But chaos is not a factor on which Gotham bases it's faith."
"Faith? We're talking about faith now? Oh, no no no no no. We're talking about chaos. What ya' gotta' see, Counsellor, is that....chaos and chance are the same thing! That's the balance. It always has been the balance and it always will be the balance!"
"And do you believe that chaos and chance are the two factors that allowed you to terrorise Gotham City and claim responsibility for the murder of nearly twenty people?"
"I told that to a good friend once. My ace in the hole, I called him. I heard he's dead now. Shame."
"Joker? Please answer my question."
"Perhaps somebody who just can't die doesn't.....need to be human. Maybe that's why the mob couldn't touch me."
"Do you claim responsibility for the murders of these people listed, Mr. Joker?"
"Sure, the Batman wouldn't kill me. But that was just some...weird...distorted sense of self-righteousness and valour.
"And hell – I wouldn't kill him for the world! He's the most fun I've had in years!"
"Joker, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."
"I dream about him sometimes, ya know. Just wondering, waiting for the right move. Wondering just how much longer I'll sit here until I feel the urge ta'get up and leave. I could do it right now, if I wanted to."
"Threats will not be taken lightly within this compound, Mr. Joker. Let me assure you of that."
"Hey, look. I don't plan on staying inside forever. I mean, padded walls aren't as much fun as people might think."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you escorted back to your room, Mr. Joker."
"But then again, I'm not planning. Planning is for the humans. Planning is for The Batman!"
Bsst!
"Sergeant, I need you to subdue the patient. Get Chrytel on the phone."
"What's the matter, Counsellor? You look a little nervous. Is it the scars? It's not really something you ever get used to, I know."
Click!
"Alright, Scumbag. You know the drill. Head on the table."
"Ah, the Sergeant too. It seem's I'm outnumbered yet again. But how could I possibly fight back in a straight jacket, eh Counsellor?"
"Shut it, clown! Enough talk for today!"
"I don't suppose you have one in purple, do you, Sergeant? I always did like purple."
"Test subject number 275, June 5th 2008. Time is nine fifteen. Name unknown, alias of Joker. Subject 'Joker' continues to show increasingly aggressive behaviour towards staff and personnel. I suspect that this might be the repercussions our first discussion. Despite heavy dosages and solitary confinement, subject has managed to assault three members of staff, severely injuring one. Progress with The Joker may have more consequences that I fear. Patient is highly unstable."
Click!
"We can't leave you alone with him this time, m'am. We're under strict observational rota's. The clown cannot be left unattended after the attacks against personnel."
"Thank you Sergeant. I understand."
"It seems you finally got your date with the Counsellor, Sergeant. I feel that congratulations are due."
"Keep quiet, you goddamn-"
"Sergeant, please! You must disband everything that my patient might say or do whilst he is inside this room. I require your absolute silence and everything stated shall be strictly confidential. Is that clear, Sergeant?"
"....It is, m'am."
"Ah, so you see Sergeant. Counsellor's got a little fight in her. I'm sure she's the kind of girl who likes it angry, am I right? If I was twenty years younger...."
"Sergeant, please. Restrain yourself."
"Yes m'am. My apologies."
"Joker, last time we met, you spoke of not being human. I want you to speak to me a little more about that. Do you think it might have a connection with the Dawson death?"
"Dawson...Dawson...I uh, oh – oh! Rachel! You mean Rachel, right? Harvey's squeeze. The pretty girl amoung the oil drums....."
"Yes. Rachel Dawson."
"Hmm....yeah. Ya know, that was a shame. Very very beautiful. Reminded me of my second wife. But unfortunately, as I said to Harvey, she just...got in the way. Sometimes these things happen. There was a lot going on. I wanted Batman, Dent said he was Batman, so I went after him because I thought he was, but the he wasn't and I got arrested and - it all just got......very boring. Too human. Too reliable."
"You've mentioned the words 'too human' before, Joker. Would you care to explain what you mean by the choice of words?"
"Well, I wouldn't care to explain anything, in a matter of words, dear Counsellor. But uh, your angry boyfriend over there looks like he might want an answer. And..uh, I....I know that if I explain myself and he doesn't like it, I might just give him the chance he needs. I don't get much exercise in my cell."
"Continue."
"'Too human'. 'Too human'. What could I possibly mean by...'too human'?"
"Joker."
"Come now, Counsellor. You complicate things too much. My words mean nothing more than their, uh – their meaning. Too human. Too....valuable, shall we say? Too breakable. Or at least the squishy ones, anyway.
In lamens terms, I guess that would be - the ones who...uh...who die too easily. Like the Commissioner, or the judge, or that Rachel girl. Too squishy.....too vulnerable. One touch and they fall to pieces. One touch and they all. Fall. Down."
"Did you see this as the case with Rachel Dawson?"
"........If somebody's too human, they aren't worth keeping."
"Did you see Rachel Dawson as 'worth keeping'?"
"That must be why Daddy kept me around. Huh. Never thought of that before."
"Could you please answer my question, 275?"
"Oh, so we're into numbers now! How predictable! So now I'm a number. Commissioner Gordon's idea, I presume? You think you're safe with your walls and your guns and your medicated drugs and that Batman will save you from the scary guy in the face paint? It's really quite endearing, just how pathetic your attempts to control things are."
"275, please answer the question."
"Ya know, I was too squishy once. Too human. Hard'ta believe, I know. But when you're young, you're stupid and you forget things and....whole years just go missing!"
"275, answer the question."
"But....he, uh, kept trying and trying and soon, he got his wish. The man always did get what he wanted."
"If you do not comply, we will have no other choice but to use force, 275."
"And you wanna know what happened when Dad won? I broke. Froze up. Died. What ever you wanna call it – it happened.
But too bad for Dad, he didn't count on chance and chaos. I might have found him in his sleep and sliced him open with his own needle – or I might not have."
"Sergeant, the patient has become too hostile. I need him placed under confinement as soon as possible."
"What I'm trying to say is, Counsellor - don't count on human nature. It's as I always say; Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stranger!"
"Come on, clown. Playtime's over!"
"Can't you see Gotham burning anymore? Can't you see my glory still written on the faces of the people? They shouldn't forget! The won't forget!"
"Damnit, stop struggling! Nurse! I need 10cc of Hypochlorate!"
"I think I'm ready to back and find the Batman!"
"Approach with caution. Patient is hostile! I repeat – patient is hostile!"
Counsellor Wattson sighed, pressing her finger down onto the pause button of her tape recorder. That had been nearly two weeks ago.
The Joker had assaulted another four staff members since then.
He had been placed in solitary confinement under lock and key, but it still worried her. He was getting worse.
She hadn't had the confidence to call him into her office again since the last attack. Her training had taught her to keep a cool and distant facade, but around that man....
It was like he was some kind of virus. He got underneath your skin and into your mind. Those same crazed, maddened eyes seemed to watch her every move. Even without the face paint – the man was still terrifying.
And even scarier – Counsellor Wattson had replayed those three sessions over in her mind again and again and she kept coming to the same conclusion. A dead end.
She hadn't even been sure if The Joker had told her an ounce of truth. There had been something in his eyes that just sparkled when he spoke with such vigour and it gave him away.
He could see it scared her and he used it to his advantage. Wattson knew that The Joker could change his story a thousand times, just to see the terrified look on her face.
Of course she had dealt with cases like this many times. Child abuse and drug addiction were , unfortunately, quite common at the asylum. But that same twinkling, maddened spark in his eyes and that grin told her that The Joker's stories could be as fake as the tabloids.
Only he would keep telling her the stories because he liked to tell them. He liked to watch her squirm.
A shiver went through her spine.
Closing her eyes, Counsellor Wattson wiped away a strand of hair from her eyes. She rubbed at her temples, automatically reaching for the glass of water on the table. Perhaps a painkiller would help.
This case was slowly driving her insane.
She pushed the chair away from the desk in her office and walked across the room towards the dresser. Opening the drawer, Wattson began to rifle through the various contents to find her pills.
The lights flickered. Something smashed down the hallway.
Counsellor Wattson turned her head, a chill running up her spine at the sound. Perhaps somebody had just dropped something? People fell asleep all the time during the Graveyard Shift.
Another crash. The lights flickered weakly and then cut out. Counsellor Wattson stood completely still. She was in perpetual darkness.
Moving over towards her desk, she tried to manoeuvre herself in the dark. There was a can of pepper spray inside her desk drawer. She just had to reach it.
"Jess-!"
Wattson froze.
The scream that had come from outside her door was cut off suddenly and abruptly, thrusting the eerie corridors into silence. The Counsellor's breath came quick and shallow.
There had been an escape!
Changing direction, Wattson veered towards her office door. If she could just get to the fire alarm, the medics would be alerted.
Her heels clattered against the polished surface as she hurried towards the door. Feeling panic begin to overtake her, she reached for the door handle and flung it open.
"Hello Counsellor."
He grabbed her chin in his hand, walking calmly back into the office with her in tow, momentarily stunning her.
His clothes had been returned and he wore the face paint once again.
How? How had he escaped? Did he have someone on the inside?
Counsellor Wattson froze as her breathing became faster. She had to remember her training.
In the event of an escape, don't panic or make any sudden movements. Give them whatever they want until you can get away.
The Joker closed the door behind him with his free hand, not once taking his eyes off her.
Her eyes widened when she saw the glint of a metal object in his free hand, hanging by his side. His weapon of choice.
"W-what d-do you want?" she managed, The Joker's hand clamping down on her chin a little harder than before.
He didn't smile like she expected him to.
Licking at his lips, The Joker looked around the small room. It seemed like he was bored. A caged animal finally free – unable to do anything with itself.
Reaching up with his free hand, The Joker placed the cool metal of the blade against her collarbone.
Wattson could feel herself trembling. Why hadn't he said anything? What did he want?
"You look nervous, Counsellor." The Joker finally spoke, his voice sounding cool and light in the stuffiness of the room. "It's the scars still, isn't it? Yeah, even after nine months, you still can't quite get used to it? You remind me of my first wife."
He pulled her a little closer, the blade pressing into her neck.
She stiffened, trying to turn her head away from The Joker as he pulled her face to his. He dug his nails into her chin, forcing her eyes to his.
"I meant what I said, you know." his voice was barely above a whisper. "Just because I was too busy killing your co-workers, doesn't mean I didn't notice."
Wattson began to tremble.
Her arms hung at her sides as she wracked her brains trying to think of an escape. The Joker's hold on her face was starting to sting. She was pretty certain he'd broken the skin.
"What's your name, Counsellor?" The Joker licked his lips "I mean, usually I doubt you'd tell me, but as I'm in a position of power here, I figured I'd make the most of it."
Swallowing the huge lump in her throat, Wattson blinked away another tear as she fought for control over her voice.
The Joker's grip tightened on her jaw when her eyes strayed away and she forced herself to speak the words.
"J-Jessica. Jessica Wastton."
The Joker nodded, rolling his eyes back up to look at the ceiling like he was uninterested.
With the thumb that gripped her face, he wiped away another tear that slid down her face. For a moment, it almost seemed tender in the most disturbing, sick kind of way.
"Look – uh, Jessica. I just want to talk." The Joker continued "My head's a little clearer now, without all'a that crap you kept putting in my system. Now I see everything perfectly. Even if you're just some paid shrink, maybe I was being just a little hard on you when I said I wanted to stab you. On the contrary. While I'm here, I want to thank you, Counsellor."
He pulled her face just that little bit closer. Jessica winced as she felt his hot breath on her face.
"Ask me why, Jessica."
The Counsellor blinked, a tear rolling away down her face. It dripped down her chin and onto The Joker's hand.
He looked at it for a moment, still not smiling as she shook to get the words out.
"W-why?"
"Why what, Jessica?"
"W-why do you w-want t-to thank me?"
The Joker pouted and his eyes looked skywards, as if he was pondering some great mystery. When his head darted back down a moment later, there was still no smile on his face.
"Because, beautiful lady," he licked his lips. "kindness is a rare thing in these places. And even if you drugged me and beat me and locked me in a box for three months without sunlight – at least you took the time to understand. Or well, shall we say attempt to understand?"
Taking his hand away from her chin for a fraction of a second, The Joker licked up the tear that had landed on his fingers.
Jessica had to physically restrain herself not to be sick.
"I mean, I can't really expect you to understand." he continued. "Because not even I understand. I like to keep the ball moving, so to speak. Being locked up in a cage for almost a year....well, it gets'ta you. All these things I wanted to do and all these people I wanted to kill – and I couldn't. It's infuriating!"
His eyes flickered back up to look at her. Those terrifying, mad eyes shrunk her to nothing. The same pained, maddened, angry eyes that had haunted her for months.
She blinked more tears, her entire body shaking under his scrutiny. He rolled his eyes, patting her shoulder with his free hand.
"Oh, shush shush shush! No need to cry now, Jess, you're a big girl! Jesus!"
"You know Jessica," he licked his lips "now you remind me even more of my first wife. She was a crier too. And a gambler. Or was it a suicidal bulimic? I forget. Anyway, before I go, Jessica, I wanted to give you a leaving present."
Reaching into his pockets with one hand, he took away the knife from her throat. She relaxed only slightly, until The Joker looked back up at her.
Only now, the smile was there. That deadly, insane smile that meant only one thing.
"Don't get me wrong, Jessica," he lulled, cupping her cheek with one hand. "you're going to die. I can't let you live after everything you've heard. But I promise to make it as....exciting as possible. At least, I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it."
Wattson screamed.
Grabbing onto her with both hands, The Joker's smile broadened as he forced her against his chest – the glint of a razor blade sticking out between his teeth.
"Why so serious, Counsellor? How about a kiss?"