Tell me something, will you ever forgive yourself? Last time you had the excuse but this time, this time when your eyes open and the covers are peeled back how many waves of self-loathing will you endure? How many times will you roll the night back and forth in your mind? What comes first, pain? Regret? Dare I say pleasure?
I don't need to stay you know, whether or not the shame will root you to the spot or if it will instead propel you to fight and drag me back to Arkham is irrelevant. I could slip out that door like so many of your conquests and leave you to remember every moment, but I'd rather watch as the realisation sinks in and the chance to see you defeated is one I will not pass up easily. I do not need to see the horror of what we have done sink in, I don't need to but I want to, I want to remind you that in one evening I broke you. In one evening I proved my point, and in that moment I won.
You will fight of course, it might take a day, or a week, perhaps a month but I have doubts it would take you that long my capered darling. I know you all too well and by the time we meet next the thought of our night will drive you forward, and I love it. I love knowing that every punch you throw will be driven by our energy. I revel in the knowledge that every bone you crush will compensate for a haunting moment of weakness, every life you save will be done knowing that it won't make up for the lives you allowed me to take.
What will you seen when you look at me next? Will you see my smile? Will you hear my laugh? Or will you instead me blinded by this face of mine? See it translated into the contractions you brought about through motion alone, hear every chuckle as a moan of satisfaction. I'll see it in you, before my frantic eyes your frown will melt into something I love and you fear.
I don't need you to be awake to know this will happen again, this is not the first nor the last time but it is the first time you were willing. Perhaps you will find that easier to forgive? Using your little assassin's lipstick made every request a command and stripped you of your free will. A rather appropriate choice of words I think, however as I indulge myself in laughter I find myself wondering how you will bare it. The assassin lay dead, a woman you loved and in return she loved the Batman.
Sweetie, you're better off without her. I'm not saying that because I'm jealous or bitter, I'm saying it because I'm right. Her body needed to slump on the floor, silently watching with bloody breath as her beloved obeyed every word and then, safe in the knowledge she had condemned you to this fate; die. Talia wasn't it? Yes I believe so, oh how the poor thing thought she was clever and then, before the sun had even set, the joke was on her and the joker was on you.
Again through cackles of laughter I reflect on it, though I must confess this time I've outdone myself. For years the tension between us was vitriolic hatred, expressed through battle and then, without needing control I flip it. I point you in my direction and watch you fall apart, and in the end I suppose my darling Batsy, that's why I always win. I know you, I know us and I accept you. I know who you are, both of you, and you know who I am. Our dynamic was leading to this, we both knew it. Remember the fairground? Remember the joke? The laughter and then our lips came so close. Oh it cracks me up just thinking about it.
I bet you couldn't see it at first, persuaded yourself that your obsession was a result of who I was. I was the Joker after all, criminal mastermind and our bond was one of animosity. I was your nemesis, you were mine and while you missed it everyone else saw it. The boy, Jason, I can remember him with a whole host of obscenities about what I wanted to do. I remember him so convinced that the reason you wouldn't kill me is because you loved me, he thought he was doing you a favour by trying to kill me. Though now he is past I find myself wondering if he was right. I mean we are both obsessed with the other, our lives revolve around the other and accept the other for all their flaws.
By the time you awake I am sure all of these thoughts will pass through your mind and more. Though the truth will try and elude you, it will fail. You're too smart for your own good Batsy and it will help destroy you.
Think about it, just for a moment. In one night you validated me, in one night you proved I was right all along. You accepted me for all my flaws as I have said over and over again. These hands, the ones which beat your little birdie to death were entwined with your own. These eyes have seen more of you than they did of Barbra Gordon and the smile which has sent hundreds if not thousands into the abyss, has met your lips in an action you will never stop hating yourself for.
So what flaw about you do I accept? Well I doubt you were aware of it before now but I accept and permit your preoccupation with the other one. I could destroy him you know, he is uninteresting, boring and only serves to mask what lurks in the night. I accept you as Batman, and your mask of Bruce Wayne. You will wake up knowing I know, you will send your family to the furthest reaches of the globe and yet I will leave them untouched. For now. One day when Batman consumes you I shall destroy them and then we will have our lives to ourselves. Bruce Wayne will die and you will be complete. On that day however, I fear we will be moments from the end.
No, I'm not naïve enough to think this night or any other like it will dissipate the tension, nor do I think it has averted the inevitable. We are on a suicide course my dearest and I would have it no other way, the only question is how long. How many more times like this will there be? And no I am not referring to the actual act I'm referring to us, our battles. I've done things to you before, rendered you helpless as innocents writhe in pain, made you endure the paralysis of your favourite pet and that's not even taking into account what I did to the father, but that's the joke. A bat and a clown fight, people live, people die, and the world tries to make sense of us. So how long will the joke last? How many times can I break you before you can't pick up the pieces anymore? I dread and dream of that day.
Sleep for now my dearest, it is the last time you will do so without regret and I will be here when you awake. Odds are you will drag me back to the asylum wondering if I will joke about this from the high heavens, and of course I will but not yet. The day I reveal this to the world will ruin your reputation and that is another scheme altogether. Though it will come as will our death and I say ours, because even when that day comes and one of us is left standing, one will be dead and the other will be dead inside. If I die you will commit yourself to your crusade until it destroys you and if you die, I don't know; probably a murderous rampage and, or suicide.
So our ends are already planned out, and it dawns on me that our beginnings may not be too dissimilar. One bad day made you, the day the alley was watered with your parents blood and you know what; if you don't drag me back to Arkham then I will find Mr Chill and place his head on the spiked fences of your manor; a smile carved into his face. Maybe I'll even make it a Valentine's Day gift and I'm grinning just thinking about it, oh what fun we've had and will have. Though I fear we are closer to the end than the beginning now.
Though what is my beginning? I know you must wonder and I confess to being almost entirely apathetic towards it. Multiple choice origins makes them far too entertaining to be worth dwelling on but there is one, one story which crops up from time to time and I remember it slightly differently than the others. I mean I've been a failed comedian, a prostitute, a mistress, a gangster, hell even a baker and that's only a few of them but this one might just be different. Though all of them end up at Ace chemicals, you remember; the night you created me? I wonder if this or that night will be your biggest regret now? I'll have to ask you sometime, though first perhaps it wise to indulge in memory; the story is beautiful tragic and frankly so pathetic it's hilarious so no, I don't think it is the true order of events. Frankly I doubt any of them are, but in this one I start in a rundown apartment.
A woman who may or may not be me sits in a chair, belly full of baby and waiting for her loser of a husband to get home. Her name's Jeannie and the fact the couple are Jack and Jeannie makes me a lot less inclined to believe this version of events, however despite financial problems they love each other. So there she is sat on the chair, brooding over what name to call the baby when the husband comes home, he's the failed comedian in this one, it turns out he ended up messing up the punchline again, he wants to hit it big but he's still unemployed and hates himself for it. Now these two live in a rundown neighbourhood and so the story goes...
Jeannie
"How did it go honey?" I was asking so eagerly, so expectantly, but maybe I was right this time…it had to of gone well. He didn't look overly happy but there could be a reason for that, I mean he was drenched. Every item of clothing from that pressed blue suit to the spinning bow tie was soaked, his face was streaming white; all of that silly makeup he wore to his shows.
Jack for his part walked to the window, his hands reaching for the cheap scotch and that told me all I needed to know. I wanted nothing more than to take those bony hands in mine and tell him everything was going to be okay, instead I just looked sympathetically from the chair.
"Well, they said they'd call," Oh no, I could tell by that awkward tremor to his voice it hadn't worked out. He had tried so hard, the green wig, the white face and the ironic clown thing was supposed to steal the show. What went wrong? The material was good, and it had even got a few laughs out of me when he tried it; which was saying something considering how little I laughed.
"Oh," I muttered under my breath as he just sighed, looking out the window helplessly. His long face reflecting a look of despair, I tried to get up and comfort him; like I used to but I didn't make it from the chair.
"I messed it up again, it was going well; got a couple of laughs and then…I stuttered, started laughing and never got the punchline out." He murmured, he was ashamed, why was he ashamed? I was his wife, the person he was supposed to feel most comfortable around.
"I'm sorry," he grunted and then I saw it, the man who for the most part had been waiting outside in the rain for ten, twenty, maybe thirty minutes. To ashamed to face the one person he was supposed to trust and very quickly those streaks on his face were unmasked as tears.
"Don't worry…" I tried to soothe him, I used to be really good at it but that had been years ago. Before he had sworn of his work in Ace, sure it was a good wage but with my work in the labs as well we made a decent wage. Though when I got pregnant, everything seemed to fall apart. Jack wanted to make real money and everyone had always said he was funny, just no one had seen him in a crowd of people he didn't know.
"Don't worry? How can I not worry! We've got the landlord breathing down our necks! The baby almost due and we have…nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snapped angrily, at least at first but by the time he had finished his voice was little more than a sob. Everything about him resonated with despair and honestly he was almost right. We had nothing, except each other.
"Come here, Jack." I beckoned using one of my practise motherly look. One that tried to soothe the tears, ease the pain and bring him closer to me. He did and before long I was buried in his shoulder while we both tried to hold back tears.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Jeannie. You deserve so much better than to be married to this sorry excuse for a man." He burst into tears eventually, the weight of everything pulling him down and I held his head in my hands. Holding this pointed cheeks and wiped away a single trickling tear.
"I didn't marry a failure Jack, a married a man with a smile to put the world to shame. Where is it Jack? Where's your smile gone?" I asked in a teasing tone eventually, and he despite himself smiled. A flood of warm emotion gave us a healthy glow, something we could enjoy for at least a few moments.
"Hey and you never know, maybe the guy will call and I'll be married to the funniest man on Broadway this time next year and even if he doesn't; you still make me laugh which is more than enough." That got him to smile, and then we embraced like we used to and before long he was back to his usual self.
"I'm gonna do it Jeannie, I'll get you and the baby out of here and soon. We'll move to a good neighbourhood, near a good school and we'll make it work. Yeah we're gonna do it, trust me Jeannie." The scotch kicked in eventually and within the hour he was making every promise under the sun. Oh how he would one day buy me all the jewels money could buy, and we would pay our baby through college with money to spare and all of it would happen just as soon as he got of his feet. Of course to him that day was all so close and while I loved seeing him happy, I was a little uneasy.
I'd heard that speech, heard him promise the world and yet the day never came. The day he got of his feet was always a lot further away than we thought and some small part of me wondered if it would ever happen. Though I was nothing if not resilient and I had faith in Jack, blind stupid faith which could leave me stuck in this rundown apartment with creaking floors and rotting walls forever, or instead could make us the family we always dreamed of. It was a risk, a risk I had been willing to take since I first said those vows.
Joker
"Batsy darling, are you just going to lie there…personally I wouldn't. We both know what's on those sheets." I cackled, breaking myself away from the indulgence of memory and instead watching him. Watch that man toss and turn under the checkered quilt and awake in a plain apartment. Nothing too special now, barely painted walls, bare floors and an open window. I watched his face fall as he regarded me, saw me puffing a steady stream of smoke out of the window and onto the street; with nothing on.
"Come on sleepyhead, not that you did much sleeping last night." I teased, drawing out every syllable and as it sunk in and it was everything I hoped for. It was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to every element of that handsome face. Those chiselled cheeks seemed to collapse in on themselves, his skin tensing into something rough, and his hair briefly became a shameful ghost hanging over him. That was not saying anything about this sparkling eyes which lost all shine and simply glinted with the full force of what he had done.
"You know I'd heard bats were nocturnal creatures but wow, they're a little more energetic than I predicted." I continued snapping him out of whatever trance guilt alone had lulled him into, his hand flexed towards his mask. Of course then it dawned on him, he didn't have it, nor did he have his suit.
"I'd offer you a smoke but knowing you it would be wasted. Not a fan of harmful toxins? You should checkout my side effects." I mocked though deep inhales, he realised then that it was too late. Not that I saw what he thought I saw, I didn't see Bruce Wayne I saw Batman, the real mask was that skinsuit he wore and by no means the cowl. Perhaps I would skin something one day and prove it to him. Maybe the next Robin? Or maybe the former one? Or that bumbling butler! That was an idea for illustrating the point, a shame it would only happen at the end. Either way the possibilities were endless.
"What did you do?" Oh he used the voice, something which brought a smile to my pale face.
"You! Remember?" I smiled at the man, watching his fists clench and ready himself for a fight.
"You did something to me." He growled, oh he was making this too easy and oh so arrogant, assuming it was all my fault!
"I did a lot of things to you darling, just none of the things you're thinking of." I punctuated that sentence with a knowing wink and watched his façade crumble, it must be difficult to keep it up when confronted with something like this.
"You…the lipstick!" Oh he found a possibility, not a great one mind you but a possibility none the less and I supposed it was better for him. Rather than a woman luring the so called Bruce Wayne to her apartment before revealing herself as the Joker and still being able to seduce him; it was far easier to believe it was all down to some mind control developed by the league of assassins or whatever it was they called themselves.
"You kept it remember darling? From our last encounter and if I might say it was much more fun with you in control of yourself." I smirked knowing every word was as good as a gunshot. Hitting that exposed muscular frame and striking him exactly where it hurt.
"You made more." He moved forward, aggressively, dangerously and yet he knew that it would have no effect on me, well at least not the effect he was hoping for.
"Oh really? I may be a homicidal genius whose IQ matches up quite nicely with my body count but even the Clown Princess of Crime can't replicate something she used for a fleeting evening and then killed the creator." I retorted with the smirk almost nailed onto my face, Batsy for his part didn't know quite how to react and simply stepped back and turned around. A hand steadied himself against the wall and he made a few deep breathing noises.
"Do I need to get a bowl?" I wondered with some concern, him getting vomit everywhere would really ruin the mood I was going for. Of course he didn't answer but nor was he sick, no matter how much he clearly wanted to be. Oh how the body resisted the mind, all I needed to do know was turn that into a decent joke and I would be taunting him all day.
Once his little episode passed I noticed him tense up again, his fists clenched again and with that; the direction of the conversation became more than clear. I knew what he was thinking, he wanted to beat me until he felt better, wanted to exact mountains of pain for every second of pleasure I took from him and perhaps a part of him was still tempted by my naked form.
"You could attack me you know, we're both unarmed and unarmoured and odds are you would win. Of course you would need to explain how Bruce Wayne was able to do what only the Batman could do and why you were found in a crummy apartment with the Joker. Obviously he would need to endure every magazine printing copies about his affair with the Joker and she would encourage it every step of the way." I almost wanted him to, I would have such power over his alter-ego and it would never go away. He would be stripped of all support, any popularity and I would be the only person standing by him.
"Or you could go, try your best to forget and yet always wonder if this might happen." He was on me by the time I finished, his hands around my throat and look of unleashed rage burning behind those eyes.
"Never again," he growled throwing me onto the bed in an action he immediately regretted as my laughter echoed round the room.
"I mean talk about mixed signals Bats! First you spend the night, push me up against the wall and then vow never again before throwing me naked onto the bed! What's next darling? Or are you going to make me guess?" I dropped my voice to a sultry whisper which would only infuriate him further, that and the following hysterics as I laid on my back kicking the air with the force of my laughter.
"Oh come on lighten up, crack a smile; just because you're coming to the soul crushing revelation that our tension can be explosively and enjoyably sexual doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy it. Ooh we could start rating the experience! Tell me how was my grip? It's just I had a lot of practise with that crowbar and..." He didn't like that, he didn't like that at all judging from how he slammed my giggling form against the wall with an audible thud.
He didn't say anything for a moment, I doubted he had the capacity to do so considering everything. I just hoped enjoyed the skills I honed while reducing Jason Todd's head to something resembling a crushed egg; that would just be perfect! Something that would torment him for the rest of his life, even more than this and that was saying something.
A rather long, drawn out pause followed that and while fitting it was also boring. So as he held me against the wall in a position that would make anyone else blush, I stopped laughing and simply smiled. Before he could even open his little mouth I pressed my lips against it, a motion which lingered for a little longer than perhaps it should and then I hit the floor as he dropped me in disgust.
"Not bad, not bad at all but if you're trying to convince me you didn…" The sentence was interrupted by flying through the air and hitting the floor like a sack of kittens going into the river. Or children depending on which stunning young maniac you happened to be.
"Shut up." He really got growly sometimes, not that it made much difference and there was something quite sweet about the way his frown burrowed into him.
"Well now you mention it; you did a find a way..." Oooh I was on fire today, through smiles and laughter I was kicked in the stomach and punched in the arm. I didn't even bother to fight back, why would I? These jokes were doing a better job than the number I did on little Harley.
"Shut up!" He shouted this time, standing over me looking ready to do something we both knew he wouldn't…not yet at least.
"Keep it down Bats, honestly sweetheart you'd wake the dead...I might have to go next door and check." A fun night surrounded by death, oh this was going to be a long running joke and one that would always bring a smile to my face. I just twisted myself on the floor, looking up at him with the dirtiest smile I could muster.
"Now are you going to bring me in? If so do let me know I might consider getting dressed before your put me in Arkahm, or are we going for the body cast this time? I've heard you like to sleep with a girl then break…" Oh the Bruce Wayne jokes, how many of them would I end up sending? How many would it take to make him snap and oh it was going to be such fun. A pity he didn't see the funny side and instead resolved to hit me again, and quite hard as well.
"Or are you going to keep hitting me before running in off in shame? I mean you're good Batsy darling but not that good. You try explaining how Bruce Wayne was found having an affair with the Joker; it might go a little beyond the typical behaviour for a playboy billionaire even for Gotham." He wasn't going to do it, I could already see it boil up in his eyes. I wondered how he would justify it to himself. Would it put the lives of his loved ones at risk; not any more than they already were though but it was nothing if not a start.
He was gone in a flash, he dressed himself as quickly as possible and left. He shot a glance at me that could have been warning, loathing or even that tiny part of his mind wrestling with lust. Then he left, and I leisurely stretched. Finished the cigar, used it to burn the painted eyes out of the portraits of whoever's apartment I had borrowed and before long I was dressed in my trademark purple suit. Of course even then my work wasn't quite done, I dipped my hand under the pillow and withdrew the knife I had so wanted him to find. A shame he didn't really but he'd get the message either way, I could have killed him while he slept and instead chose not to. I could have left him to his self-pity and chose not to. Perhaps he would even wish I killed him, more likely he did not.
Though as all good things come to end and while our next meeting would not be so intimate it would still occur. Another battle, another scheme, another time for the bat and the clown to fight. I had some ideas, perhaps make him save his most dangerous enemies? That would be fun; might take a bit of convincing and no small about of kidnapping but the competition had to prove somewhat useful after all.
Before departing however I moved to the wooden wardrobe just overlooking the bed, after which I thrust it open and withdrew the meticulously placed camera which had captured the evening for me. I toyed with the idea of sending it to the Cat, but it would be simply more fun for him to explain it to her. Would he ever look at her without seeing me? I certainly hope not.