Let Them Eat Cake
Let Them Eat Cake
Hello again! This is part two of my story, the idea I had originally conceived that brought this story about. I realize that part one probably wasn't very good, but hopefully ya'll will enjoy this more…
Morning fades into afternoon so quickly when you are asleep. The Joker lay on his thin cot in the maximum security ward of Arkham, his head swimming with images of people and faces that he had known long ago. But no matter what the dreams, some may call nightmares, she was always there. The common denominator was always his wife. Sometimes she appeared beautiful as she was when they were first married, laying next to him in his dreamscape, kissing him and whispering words of affection he had not heard for many years. In dreams of this nature he was handsome, the Glasgow grin was not yet carved onto his young features and he would hold her and remember what it was like to be loved and cherished. But as quickly as she came, radiant with youth, she fell apart. It was always the same.
He would lean in to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips when her face began to fall apart like melting wax, and in vain he would attempt to put it back but to no avail. The more rapidly he tried to help, the more quickly the blood would flow from the open wounds in her face covering him in a gory baptism. And he screamed until she vanished beneath his hands and was replaced by a mirror where he could see a lively blade, a razor, chiseling away at his face with the over eagerness of a child carving up a pumpkin at Halloween. Shrieking he would twist away and see her running out the door with a suitcase, leaving him behind with a smile still fresh, wet and palpating…
He awoke drenched in sweat and shaking only to see Bernie the guard standing outside his cell. "Get up you cop murdering lunatic! Doctor Quinzel is here to see you, so you best behave yourself! Why she wants to see you on her Saturday off is beyond me… You got five minutes to clean up clown!" He barked gruffly as the Joker staggered to his feet. He shuffled over to the mirror only to see that he had fresh tears on his face, causing a righteous indignation to boil inside of him as he viciously scrubbed at his face, at his scars…
"Mr. Joker?" Doctor Quinzel called out from the opposing side of his cell. "May I come in?" The Joker turned to examine her and noted that she had failed to put on her coat or her usual "doctor" attire. Instead she stood on the other side of the bars gazing at him pensively, dressed in skinny jeans, a red Gotham University hoodie and, he really couldn't believe it, her hair was down and not constricted to her usual bun. As if her change in clothing was not enough she was also carrying what appeared to be a brown burlap sack that was filled to the brim with… well something he couldn't yet tell.
"Happy Birthday!" she chirped as she entered the cell that Bernie had kindly opened when the Joker nodded in affirmation that it was indeed alright if she entered his 'domain'. "
You came here," he drawled slowly "to wish Gotham's most despised criminal a happy birthday?" He burst out laughing as he sank to the floor of his cell "Oh that's too rich!" he cackled maniacally "They say that I'm crazy, but at least I'm not popping into some freaks cell wishing them another cheerful year closer to their ultimate demise!"
"Well frankly Mr. Joker, I don't think you're a freak and I don't appreciate you suggesting that I am just for caring about my patient." Harleen snapped as she sank onto his bed opposite the tile where the Joker lay sprawled.
"Doc, you gotta quit calling me Mr. Joker. It does not suit me." He spat rolling his eyes than flashing his best smile.
"I would love to know what you prefer than." She said returning his smirk with one of her own.
"Something less formal… The "Mister" I can cope with but… I dunno…Mr. Joker just doesn't work beautiful." He insisted.
"How about Mr. J? You still get the mister but without the annoying addition of your insisted title."
"Mr. J rubs me the right way Harl." He grinned "Actually, Mr. J is perfect. May I ask what's in the bag?"
"I was beginning to wonder if you would." She said pulling a circular, white Tupperware container from her bag and handing it to him. "I baked and decorated a birthday cake for you."
"Oooo…" he giggled "If you took the time to decorate it you must find me supremely attractive!" he cackled at his ludicrous statement. When she didn't respond he glanced up at her only to see her fingering the seam of her sweatshirt. Instead of pushing the issue he popped the top off of the plastic ware and looked down at his cake. He was unsure of the cakes actual flavor upon first glance due to the fact that the dessert was covered in purple and green icing with the words "Happy Twenty Eighth!" inscribed toward the center.
"Harley," he cooed "this is great. Are you sure you went to medical school instead of Le Cordon Bleu?" She giggled at that statement and smiled sheepishly at him from across the cell, obviously pleased with his compliment. "Surely," he continued "you don't expect me to be able to eat this entire cake on my own." He bared his yellowed teeth at her in a way that was as close to endearing as the Joker could come and slowly made his way to a seated position next to her on his ridiculously flat bed.
"I only brought one fork." He replied meekly.
"Well, unless you're afraid of cooties, we can share a fork." He replied slowly, attempting to gage her response by the look on her face. She didn't even appear fazed about the fact that the eating utensil would enter his scarred and mangled mouth and than hers she simply handed him the fork and motioned to the cake.
"You first." She whispered.
He took the fork from her small hand and took a generous bite from the outer perimeter of the dish and enthused about how much he loved chocolate. She took the next bite and for the next thirty minutes doctor and patient systematically ate all of the birthday cake while sitting on a highly uncomfortable cot in a room with no view. It was a perfect party.
Bernie came to the door bars and told Doctor Quinzel it was time to go, that she had overstayed her visitation. As Harleen stood she asked the leering guard to give her a few minutes to say her goodbyes. As the bumbling fool walked away she turned to him and took the cake container from his hands and placed it in her bag.
"Before I forget," she said standing and wiping the crumbs from her jeans I brought you a gift. Promise you won't open it until I'm gone."
"Promise!" he chirped in a charming sing song, smiling as expansively as he could for his guest. "And thanks a million Harley Q! It was a good time. Same time next week?"
She turned and paused at the door of the cell. "I will see you Monday morning, Mr. J, for our session. Have a grand weekend." She smiled one last time, true and genuine, and walked out the door.
The Joker looked at the gift wrapped box in his hands and when he could no longer hear her footsteps, he ripped into the package. It was a large, purple, zippered bag.
He unzipped it and dumped the contents into his lap and examined each item. It was makeup. Everything from albino white face paint, to black smudge pots, and several large pots of blood red lip paint. He eagerly began applying the shades, putting on his true face bit by bit. On Monday he would give her due compensation. He would tell her how he got his scars.
End Note: Okay I hope everyone liked it! Please read and review!! :)