Joker: The Immortal

The Joker had been confined to solitary. Well, that tended to happen when you planned a hostile takeover of the whole island resulting in the death of several hundred people. Despite the pain he was suffering as his bones knitted back together, he couldn't help smiling and laughing to himself as he remembered how glorious it had all been. What a great gag on the Bat! And that Titan stuff…wow! Eat your heart out, steroids! The Joker had never really believed in using drugs – cheating if you asked him. Anyone could be crazy on drugs – it took real talent to be his level of crazy without them. And in all honesty, the Titan stuff hadn't done anything to his mind, the way it had the others. It had just made him really, really…big.

The Joker had never been a physically impressive man. Well, at least not on the surface, he thought with a smile, although you could ask Harley how physically impressive he actually was. But strength had never been his primary weapon, not like the Bat. Having that level of pure brute force had been incredible, he wasn't going to lie. Being able to just pick up and throw objects, people, whatever…being able to tear apart things with his bare hands…it was power unlike anything he had ever known before. If only the Bat had joined in the party and changed too, then they could have had some real fun. Physical equals for once, evenly matched, a battle to decide who was the innately superior one once and for all…it would have been the greatest moment of his life.

He would have won too, if the Bat hadn't cheated, as usual. Him and his gadgets, spoiling everything. One of these days he would have to take that utility belt of his and smash it to tiny pieces, and then shove those tiny pieces down his throat. He wouldn't be such a big man without it.

But the Bat was afraid, Joker knew that. Afraid of facing him man to man, because he knew he was going to lose. Without his gadgets, without his little tricks, he was nothing. Just a man. And not a man like him, not a brilliant mind, not an incredible genius aided by glorious insanity, endowed with a relentless determination, an unstoppable force for fun and chaos. Just a man. A boring, serious, ordinary man without a sense of humor. He was only a challenge because of his little toys. Take away the toys, and you took away the challenge.

He groaned suddenly as a burst of pain shot through him. Damn his injuries. Damn the Bat for giving him his injuries. He enjoyed pain usually, he really did, but this was ridiculous. His bones, muscles, and interior organs had all been stretched under the Titan, and now they were resuming their normal size and shifting back into their normal place. It was impossible to describe the agony as his body completely rearranged itself.

It had been worth it, though, he thought. No regrets, he wasn't that kinda guy. Didn't live his life regretting stuff, even the defeats, as long as he had fun. And he always had fun. And he knew that he'd get the Bat next time. There was always a next time. That was why he always smiled, even when he lost. That was why he laughed even as the Bat dragged him off in chains. There was always a next time. And one of these days he would have his little Bat head in his hands, and be able to say, "Alas, poor Batsy, I knew him well." Or something along those lines anyway. The Bat's perfect death would come to him, in a burst of inspiration. He just needed to be patient, and have some fun until then. But it would come. He knew it.

The door to his cell opened. "Puddin'? You ready for your sponge bath from Nurse Harley Quinn?"

He grinned. He was unable to turn around, confined as he was in a full body straightjacket, but he suddenly felt the restraints loosening, and a moment later he was free. He turned to see the pretty face of Harley Quinn, smiling at him adoringly. "Missing the outfit, kid," he murmured, grinning at her. "But I guess my little nurse can still give me my medicine."

She had thrown her arms around him in an instant and was kissing him violently, climbing on top of him and pressing him down on the bed. It hurt, and he cried out suddenly. "Take it easy, kid, I'm still tender!" he shouted.

"Sorry, puddin'," she said hastily, climbing off him and helping him up. Her eyes studied him gently. "You look a lot better though, Mr. J."

"I don't feel a lot better," he muttered. "Thought you said something about a sponge bath. That's what I'm in the mood for, baby, not a bunch of bouncing. The muscles really hurt," he hissed.

She shushed him and began gently massaging his shoulders. "I can get you a sponge bath if you want, pudd…" she began, but she stopped suddenly.

"What?" he demanded. He felt that she was rubbing a spot on his right shoulder tentatively, a spot that bulged out slightly.

"What's that?" she asked quietly.

"I dunno. A lump, I guess," he retorted.

"You ain't ever had a lump there before," she murmured. "Lemme see."

She gently unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, revealing his white chest, thin and toned and scarred. She ran her hands gently over the numerous scars lovingly. Then she leaned forward and planted a kiss over his heart. "Mmm, you're so beautiful, puddin'," she whispered, kissing up his chest and neck. "So…"

She paused when she saw the lump on his shoulder. It was small and not very noticeable, but it didn't look healthy. Harley was a doctor – she had been to medical school. She had seen tumors and cysts and things, and that was certainly what this looked like. It made her nervous.

"So what's the diagnosis, Doc?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I…I dunno, puddin'," she whispered. "I dunno what it could be exactly…"

He drew her face away from his shoulder and back up to his. "You don't know?" he repeated. "My, you're a very bad doctor, aren't you, Harley? I think my naughty doctor needs a spanking."

"Yeah…in a second, puddin'," said Harley, pulling away from his kiss and focusing back on his shoulder.

"Harley, stop it, it's just a stupid little lump," he retorted, turning her face back to him. "Probably nothing."

"But what if it is something, puddin'?" she asked. "I had an uncle of mine die from cancer, and he had a tumor just like that really early on."

"It ain't cancer, Harley, don't be stupid," he retorted. "As if cancer could ever stop me! I'm the Joker! Other people get cancer. I don't. All right?"

He coughed suddenly, a deep, hacking sound that did nothing to ease Harley's mind. He stopped coughing at last and leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes. "So how about that sponge bath, kid?" he muttered.

"Sure thing, Mr. J," she whispered. She went over to the sink and filled up a bowl of water, and then pulled out a sponge that she had hidden in the mass of shapelessness that was her inmate uniform. She went back over to the Joker and gently began to strip his off, and then tenderly ran the sponge over his wounded body. Tears came to her eyes, seeing him like this. The injuries looked bad enough on their own – bits of bone and muscle hadn't quite returned to their normal size and still stuck out from his flesh. Most of his spine was still visible. But the thing that concerned her most was that tiny little lump on his shoulder, mostly because it looked so benign in comparison to the rest of his terrible wounds. She didn't trust it one bit.

She ran the sponge slowly up his leg, bending down and trailing kisses after it. She paused again, suddenly, as her lips met another small lump on his thigh, similar to the one on his shoulder. She started back instantly in horror.

"What?" he snapped again.

"You got another one," she whispered, feeling it gently.

"Yeah, my entire body is slowly knitting itself back together, Harley," he snapped. "There's gonna be a lotta weird abnormalities. Lumps, cuts, bruises, you name it."

"Yeah, but…I really don't like the look of it, Mr. J," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

He tilted her chin up to look him in the eyes. "It ain't cancer," he retorted.

"How do you know?!" she demanded, suddenly furious. "That crap you injected yourself with without a second thought might have been cancerous, Mr. J! Bunch of experimental, unstable chemicals and you thought it would be fun to just shoot yourself up! What kinda stupid thing was that for you to do, huh?! Didn't you think, for one second, that that might not have been a great idea?! Doncha care about yourself at all?! Doncha you care about me at all?!"

She burst into tears. "And what if something happens to you because of that?!" she shrieked. "How do you expect me to cope, you selfish bastard?! What am I meant to do if you go away?!"

"Harley, I ain't going anywhere," he muttered. "You know I would never do that. I could never leave the Bat…"

"Oh, that's always who you're thinking about, isn't it?!" she hissed. "You and the stupid Bat!"

She kicked the bowl over. "I wish he was dead!" she shrieked. "I wish I had beaten his skull in with my hammer! I wish…"

Joker clapped a hand over her mouth suddenly. "Keep it down, you stupid woman! If the guards come, they're gonna make sure you can't ever visit me again! You wanna be locked in a full-body restraint, Harley?!"

"No," she muttered.

"No," he agreed. "So just calm down. Jesus, you'd think you were the one whose organs were moving to the house across the road."

He released her mouth and she glared at him. "Yeah, make a joke about it, Mr. J," she muttered. "Laugh it up. I hope it's all a real good joke to you. That's all that matters, isn't it? The joke and the Bat. I don't even know why I'm here."

She shoved the sponge back down her top and headed for the door. "Harley," said Joker, firmly. She turned to look back at him. "I ain't scared of some stupid lumps," he muttered.

"I am," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

They looked at each other a moment longer, and an instant later she was across the room and in his arms, kissing him desperately. "I'm real scared, Mr. J," she whispered between kisses. "Because if I lost you, I'd…I'd…go crazy. I ain't never been scared of you going up against the Bat or anyone else, because I knew they'd never kill you. No man can stop the Joker, everyone knows that. But this…this ain't a man," she whispered, gazing at his shoulder. "It's something…inside you. Something that you can't beat with force, or outsmart. It's something you can't fight, not really. And that's why I'm afraid of it."

He cupped her face in his hands. "And now lemme explain to you why I ain't afraid of it," he murmured. "Because it's nothing. It ain't even a man, you're right. And if a man can't stop me, what makes you think some stupid little disease can? If it even is a disease. It's something inside me anyway, and I can always control myself. Well, you know all about that, doncha?" he whispered, grinning at her. "Have I ever let my body rule me?"

"No, Mr. J," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "So it ain't gonna do it now. When I was under the effects of the Titan, Harley, my body never felt stronger. You think it's just gonna give up now?"

"Yeah," whispered Harley. "Because maybe you wore it out. Maybe it was too powerful, Mr. J. Maybe you lost control of it once and now it's gonna destroy you for it."

He suddenly started laughing. "Well, that'd be quite the joke, wouldn't it, baby?" he chuckled.

"Not a funny one, Mr. J," she whispered. "Not to me."

"Yeah, it would be, just think about it, pooh," he chuckled. "Nobody can kill me. Not the Bat, not anyone. Nobody can kill me except…me. Got a nice kinda irony to it."

"I don't wanna think about you being killed, Mr. J," she whispered, shutting her eyes tightly. "Not even as a joke."

He kissed her tenderly and pressed her down on the bed. "No joke, baby," he murmured. "Not this time. I ain't going anywhere."

He had dropped off into a restless slumber afterward. Harley held him tightly in her arms, and soothed him when he made unconscious noises of pain, or started coughing. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't even shut her eyes, streaming with tears. She didn't want to miss one instant with him.

For the first time in her life, the possibility that the Joker, the man she loved beyond reason, could die, entered her head. Harley knew that people died all the time – she and Mr. J had killed a lotta people. But the idea that Mr. J could die had just never seemed possible. He had seemed immortal, in a way. There was something eternal and fatalistic about all his battles with Batman – no matter how badly he was hurt, or how his death seemed certain, Mr. J always returned to fight the Bat again. It was an endless cycle, and comforting in a way. The Joker would always be back.

But now, as she looked on his ravaged face and heard him coughing, she began to doubt that he would come back this time. Oh, there had been near death experiences before – that time she thought he had been eaten by a shark, that time he had fallen down a chimney, that time he had been blown up in a plane. But he always reappeared, smiling and laughing and ready to fight the Bat again. But he had never been struck down like this, with a disease which crippled him, which could conceivably consume him…

She clutched him tighter. It couldn't happen. He was the Joker. He would beat this, whatever it was. He was the Joker. He couldn't die. He just couldn't. This wouldn't stop him. Nothing would. He was the Joker. He was immortal.

He shifted suddenly in sleep. "Harley," he muttered.

"I'm here, puddin'," she whispered, stroking his hair back and smiling tenderly at him. "I'll always be here."

He smiled back as she kissed him. "So will I," he whispered.

She shut her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her face. That was all she needed to know.

The End