Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker or any of the characters associated with him.
A/N: I was watching the Dexter, season two, and the episode was talking about masks being brought down. It made me wonder what would happen if the Joker's mask was taken down and this is what I got. Please read & review. Thanks.
His mask was slowly slipping, and he knew it. It was all because of her. He used to think she was so insignificant, now he just thought of her as a problem, a big problem.
She was the one to take the crowbar to his face, metaphorically of course, pulling back his mask. If she'd actually taken a crowbar to his face he would know how to handle that. But this, no this he had no idea how to handle. She turned his world to shit, to complete shit.
He had led the world to believe he thrived on chaos and that just wasn't the case, not at all. Well maybe it was a little bit. He thrived when their world was chaotic, not when his was. She'd given him chaos and he couldn't handle it. Him, a supposed agent of chaos, couldn't handle a little of it in his own world. How hypocritical of him.
At this last thought he laughed, that uncontrollable laugh that sent people running. He really couldn't help it. Mask or no mask it was part of him, an inseparable part; the need to kill her though that was a little different. The Joker found her amusing, while he saw the problem with her existence clearly. If she were allowed to live she would just keep pulling at that mask, taking it apart bit by bit until there was nothing left. He'd lived without his mask once and it didn't serve him well, but that's a different story. He needed his mask.
When he walked into his room she was there on the floor, one of his shirts pooling around her, playing with a knife. He had to admit that a part of him would miss her; he just wasn't sure what part. He would deal with that later.
Walking up behind her he whispered, "Hiya sweet cheeks. Miss me?" Her only response was to move herself closer to him. He would take that as a yes.
He picked her up and placed her on the bed, she was still playing with the knife. Yes, a part of him would definitely miss her. She was moments away from her death and here she was calmly playing with a knife. She reminded him of himself. He moved to sit beside her on the bed, she automatically moved closer to him.
She was making to so easy. He silently pulled a knife out of one of his many pockets. Opening it , he glanced at his reflection he was sure this had to be done, he already saw the holes she put in his mask.
He moved his arm, ready to kill. That's when he felt it, a sharp pain in his side. Apparently she'd been looking at the reflection in her blade too. She knew what he was going to do, saw that look in his eyes.
They were so much alike; both in the business of chaos, both trying to stop their masks from falling apart, and both laughing at the same private joke. Unfortunately know one ever beat him at this game.
With one quick movement of his wrist, she was dead. As the blood leaked and the life slowly left her eyes he felt his mask becoming whole again, piece by piece. He would miss her, but for now it was his own private joke. He would deal with the insanity she would cause him later. Or maybe the Batman would kill him before that time came.
His laughter echoed through Gotham.