Chapter 2
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A/N Thanks for all the feed, back, I took into consideration all of the reviews. Muchhh appreciated! I didn't place it in the romance category for nothing…so keep that in mind for future notice ;) As usual, please give me some feedback, now read!
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Saturday, 8:47 a.m. Swan's office.
A stack of papers was slipped in front of her novel she was reading. She looked up, disconcerted.
" 'Jokes On Us: Joker hasn't Spoken One Word In Two Weeks' " Smithson declared.
"Long headline," Swan muttered, glancing at the Gotham Times. Smithson ignored her.
"This guy's a media nightmare, Doctor! It's like they love to hate him, track every step of the way. It's almost as if they're waiting for him to do something destructive. Keep reading," he said. Swan skimmed the newspaper.
…After a bizarre court hearing, Gotham's most demonic criminal, The Joker, emerged scantily with a five-year minimum sentence, and intensive therapy three times a week. The therapist; a twenty-four year old local Michigan-native Abnormal Psychologist who will attempt to bring The Joker to his senses. Sources confirm that The Joker hasn't uttered a single word in more than two weeks, and despite his solitary confinement, suspiscion and unsettlement has risen to a new degree: What is he up to, and what will he do next?…
"That's intimidating. Smithson, how did you get into my office?"
"Your door was open," he said, then switched tone quickly, "Can't you see what's hapenning, Dr Swan?! You're being placed under an extreme amount of pressure, here. The press is only going to get more and more intrusive. Each day he doesn't speak, you get criticized…this could bruise you're personal well-being! Or worse…your job. You have to do something to make him talk, Doctor…"
"I'm well aware of my credentials, and I don't believe I am in much danger. Once Batman does something heroic, there will be something else to talk about. The press isn't very consistent.'
"I'm just saying. Be wary," He cautioned, and sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind him. She set the paper down on her desk, and resumed reading. Several minutes in, she hear a swoosh sound and looked up.
She was on her feet in seconds, ready to scream, or perhaps defend herself.
Batman placed one gloved hand over her mouth before she had a chance to protest.
"Good morning, Doctor Swan," his voice resonated through the room, low and husky.
"I assume we need no formal introduction," he said, removing his hand from her mouth. She made a face at him.
"So it's true, what they say. Just come and go as you please. This is the second time I'm asking today, how did you get in my office?" She glanced at the closed door. Batman pointed at the window, which was open. She eyed him skeptically.
"That wasn't open earlier,"
"I am a man of many talents," he said, unmoved.
"Can I ask what your business is, showing up and spooking me like that?"
"Your treating The Joker," he responded, ignoring her question.
"Yes. Mr. Napier. It seems everyone feels the need to inform me of that."
"He's not going to tell you anything true. It would be a wonder if he even knew fantasy from reality. He's a very deranged individual."
"Have you read the paper lately, Mr…Batman. The Joker hasn't said anything in more than two weeks. I highly doubt that he will say anything anytime soon,"
"He will. Just be patient,"
"That's my job."
"And watch out, he's a master at his game."
"I'll do my best," She turned to re-arrange the papers on her desk. "Now, I imagine my patient will be in in just a few min-" she turned back to face empty air. She glanced at the window, still open, let out a heavy sigh, and resumed preparing for the Joker's session.
She could not force the man to speak, she thought. He was obviously deeply troubled, but she felt no danger in his presence. She knew he was sinister, but she also knew he was not stupid. It wouldn't make any sense to try and harm her, when he knew the security was practically right out side the door, waiting to shoot him down at the first sign of distress.
She was so curious as to what he had been thinking about the past couple weeks. Or even what went on in his head. She had just moved to Gotham from Michigan, and only had a taste of the terror The Joker had inflicted on the city. She had read about them, of course. And the first couple of nights she had moved into town she was in one of the two Ferries that were a part of his "Social Experiment". Each Ferry having a switch that would cause the other to explode… What a first impression of Gotham.
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9:03 a.m. Swan's office.
It was the Joker's third therapy session, and he sat quietly on Dr. Swan's plush couch. He had one leg crossed so his ankle was placed comfortably on his knee. He stared blankly at nothing.
Dr. Swan, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, facing the back of the Joker's greasy, still head. He was in her peripherals, but she was more engrossed in her novel than anything else. She sincerely admired Kurt Vonnegut's cynicism and dry humor.
She wasn't expecting the Joker to speak any time soon; maybe never. Her field did require a lot of patience, patience that she had to force herself to accept. She had always been very fast-paced and impulsive through school. She held on her word, however, and would not speak until he would. Third day…that's an additional nine months…
The ankle on his knee began twitching furiously. Dr. Swan took no notice. He cleared his throat. Again, she paid no notice, as he had done this the last two sessions.
"Hey, Doc, I feel like talkin,'" he muttered. She was startled by his voice. She had only heard it, deep and gurgly through an intercom on that night in the Ferry. But now, in her office, it seemed nonchalant, perhaps even friendly, as if they talked every day. She immediately rose from her desk, and strode to the chair opposite of him, a folder stuffed with paperwork in her hands.
He sat, his ankle twitching, and his cuffed wrists were folded neatly in his lap. His crusty greenish hair was matted to his head, which hung, still in that eerie way so that his eyes were sort of looking up at her darkly.
"Mr. Napier, it's good to hear you've finally decided to cooperate," she said, flicking through the papers.
"I didn't decide anything. It's all a part of the plan," he smacked his lips, his voice dipping darkly at the last word. She felt her heart skip a few beats.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Nope. I thought we were here to talk about how troubled I am. Go ahead, ask me a few questions," He said, his voice immediately returning to conversationally friendly. It was chilling.
"How about we talk for a little bit about you. I'm going to go over some basics, tell you my diagnosis so that we can start from the root. Sound good?"
"I imagine that was a rhetorical question," he said, thoughtfully. She nodded, and cleared her throat.
"Alright, Mr. Jack Napier. It seems no one has been able to delve very deep into your history, so here is what I have."
He nodded, pressed and licked his lips habitually.
"Your name is Jack Napier, middle name unknown. Age…unknown specifically, however tests reveal you are somewhere between twenty-five and twenty-nine. Care to specify?"
He shook his head, his eternal smile curling upwards.
"Figured as much. Sex: male, weight: 186 pounds, you're in excellent shape, you have a body mass index of just four percent. Your liver does, however, reveal mild alcohol use, most likely in your teen years, as well as eroded naval cavities…presumably from cocaine use, as well as other signs of narcotics…"
"I was known as an adrenaline junkie, if you will," he said under his breath
"Right. I also have files from your stay at the Arkham Asylum," She skimmed over the paper. "I see your stay was very brief. Why is that?"
The Joker smirked.
"Let's just say I got out on…good behavior," he said, flashing back to his very short stay at the insanity asylum just on the outskirts of Gotham. He didn't demonstrate any good behavior whatsoever. He slashed up some guards and nurses…mildly put… and actually caused several of the staff to turn quite crazed themselves. He had escaped the ward…persuading a handful of the patients to follow him and become some of his mentally instable henchmen to do much of his dirty work, all of whom he eventually destroyed.
Swan raised her eyebrows.
"Cunning. Well, their diagnosis reveals signs of sociopath behavior, bipolar disorder, manic depressive, and paranoid schizophrenia."
"So basically I'm just one big headcase."
"Not quite, it's just a diagnosis. I will not confirm any theory unless I prove it myself. Not much is known about you, Mr. Napier. It would really help if you could tell me a little bit more about yourself," she said seriously.
"You wanna start with the scars, don't you," he seemed to growl.
"Wherever you'd like. Listen, my room is soundproof. It is my job not reveal a thing we discuss in this room. I would not have any sort of guard or officer in here while we have our sessions so as not to taint the therapist-patient trust code. Whatever you tell me, I make notes of it, and pack it away to take to my home at the end of the day for diagnosis and observation. It is essential that you trust me. If you'd prefer, we could start at your childhood. The case files from court mention that the judge was concerned about your early years."
"Childhood. Allright," he said thoughtfully. "Childhood," he repeated
The Joker began to describe a brilliant childhood; a colorful one filled with happy Christmases, and supportive, caring parents. He talked about school, and how he was very popular amongst his peers, especially the females.
"…I liked to do theatre at my school. I always got cast as the lead. We did…Peter Pan one year. Of course I was cast as Peter. Our theatre had just gotten renovated, see," He talked, becoming animated with his hands, despite the fact that they were bound by handcuffs. "The theatre got wired harnesses so that the cast could get lifted into the air if needed. My school was full of talented guys from the art department, the set, so intricately made with welded metal scraps and woods. It was the Neverland forts, made to look like the 'lost boys' built it, so it was made to be jagged, sharp, and uneven.
"One night, during a performance, it was the last scene, where I was in the air, saying my line to the young girl who played Wendy. Something went," he began to slow his voice, his tone dipping "Something went very wrong. Someone in the crew didn't do their job. They didn't follow the rules. They thought they could just wrap my wire around a prop off-set, that it was late in the show, they were exhausted from holding me up. They were exhausted.
"No one was there to hold on to my wire. My harness fell. I dropped from fifteen feet in the air, right on top of the set backdrop.Luckily for me, two jagged pieces broke my fall. It ripped my mouth from ear to ear," He paused for a moment, running his fingers across his scars, imitating the ripping sound "And the sick part, Doc, the really messed up part… was 'the show must go on'. I was knocked out cold, everyone thought it was part of the scene. The show was over. No one helped me until the crowd left. Pretty messed up, don't you think?"
Swan did her best to keep her face from furrowing and grimacing. She scribbled several notes in her notebook. After several moments, she looked up.
"It seems far fetched, blowing school code right out of regulation that no one did anything," She was silent for a few seconds, thinking. "Mr. Napier, are you telling me the truth?" She remembered what Batman said.
"Why, did someone tell you I would be…fabricating stories?" He said, and threw back his head in his signature, chilling manic laughter. Dr. Swan couldn't help but shudder.
"What if, Doc, what if I were to tell you that I had this whole place rigged, to several explosives," he said darkly, leaning in to look her square in the face. Instinctively, her hand groped for her pager clipped to her side.
"And what if I said that the trigger was set to the opening of that door," he licked his lips and pointed to Swan's closed door. "That one right there."
Swan's heart began to drum against her chest. She tried to keep her entire body from trembling, but she felt the color begin to drain from her face.
"You've been in jail…" She said almost breathlessly.
"Really? Have I?" He snapped quickly, a chuckle rumbling from deep in his throat.
"Are you scared of me, Doctor Swan? I think I see sweat beading on your forehead. I had no idea Doctor's perspired. Learn something new every day, doncha," He began to quiver with excitement, his mouth spreading in a horrifying grin.
"I don't know what you want. I'm only trying to help you," She said, trying to keep her voice even, but it broke on the last word.
"You could watch me crawl right out that window, and tell them that you let me out. Of course, once anyone walks through that door, this entire place is gonna blow up in smithereens!" He cried, throwing his arms up in the air and his tone elevating as he spoke. Dr. Swan could do nothing but stare at him, her finger just over the call button.
"Or…you could call my bluff and decide what's true…and what's not," He leaned in, just inches from her face, she could smell his warm breath. He eyed her like a hungry predator. His face then softened to a mock-concerned look. She remained frozen stiff.
"Why so serious, Doc? Maybe I should carve you a nice, big smile. We could match."
The Joker laughed manically once again, right in her face, and leapt towards the window. He flashed her an ugly grin before dipping out.
Time didn't seem to move. Doctor Swan shut her eyes tightly, holding her breath. She pressed the call button.
A/N Oh, no, Doctor! What have you gotten yourself into now?! A Dartmouth (yes, Dartmouth) graduate has been outsmarted by a no good, greasy clown? NOW WHAT?! Just you wait : ) Good and bad criticisms always appreciated. Awe, heck, Reviews are my anti-drug. DO it!
