I know Queen seems to be getting more and more Mary-Sue-ish as this story goes on D: I'm sorry

6

The Scars

Returning to whatever building The Joker resided in, he and Queen entered calmly, despite all the commotion and problems they caused at the party a few minutes before.

"Sit, sit, sit," The Joker commanded, waving Queen over to a chair at the other end of the room. She obeyed and made her way over, falling onto the chair and jolting forward as she accidentally pressed her back against the back of it. She leaned forward, making sure not to do that again, and began picking the shards of glass out of her palms.

The Joker almost pranced back into the room, holding a filthy looking rag in his hand. Queen frowned, eyeing the rag unhappily. She didn't want that thing anywhere near her wound!

"Do you really expect me to use that to clean my injury?" She asked. The Joker shook his head, grinning.

"Of course not!" He said, "I expect me to use this to clean your injury!" Queen quirked an eyebrow.

"You?"

"Yes, me," Joker replied, giving her a look. "You can't clean an injury on your back on your own, now can you?" Queen blinked, he had a point. He drew a circle in the air with his finger. "Turn around."

Queen sighed and did so, slinging her legs on either side of the chair's back.

"Hair," The Joker said. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and waited. She heard The Joker sigh behind her.

"It's like you've never had a wound on your back before. Lift your shirt." Queen rolled her eyes and did so, making sure to keep it low in front as to not show off anything (not that it mattered, since he wouldn't see anyway).

"Ooh," Joker said, eyeing her back with interest. She looked over her shoulder slightly.

"That bad?" She asked. He shook his head

"You have a scar here," He said, poking the scarred skin. She jolted, arching her back away from him.

"Yes, I do," She said through gritted teeth. "But please don't touch it while I have glass sticking out of my back!" He laughed.

"Yes, yes," He said, plucking a shard of glass roughly out of her skin, gaining a sharp gasp from her.

"Gentle!" She complained.

"Stop moving," He insisted, and Queen complied. She winced every so often, but more or less stayed still for the next few minutes as Joker pulled the glass out and wiped the blood away (and Queen was sure the rag didn't do anything).

"There we go, finished!" He sang. Queen looked at him.

"Huh? No bandages?" She asked. The Joker shrugged.

"Don't have any," He stated. Queen rolled her eyes. It figured. She lowered her shirt and winced as the fabric passed over her torn skin.

"So then, how did you get this scar?" Joker asked, poking her back again. She gasped and glared at him.

"Enough with the poking," She hissed. He raised his hands in apology, but prodded with his eyes for her to answer. She sighed slightly and turned around in her chair.

"My dad gave it to me," She said, flicking some of her hair away from her face, "He was crazy, but since I never saw my mom, I had to live with him. I'd always ask him 'where mommy was', and the story would always change. On Christmas, she didn't love him anymore and lived in California. On Easter, she was on a business trip. On my birthday, she was in the hospital. So, when he tells me she's in the hospital, I decide to play along."

She sighed and continued, "A few days later I ask him if she was feeling any better, if we could visit her. And he snaps. 'Why are you always asking about mommy?' he shouts. 'Do you not love daddy anymore? Because daddy loves you!' He decides to grab the letter opener off the table, for whatever reason, and he lunges at me, knocks me down on my stomach, and drives the knife into my back. He keeps screaming 'I love you, I love you!' over and over again. I was lucky enough that the neighbors didn't like us, and called the police for 'disturbing the peace'." She gave a slight chuckle at the memory of her crabby neighbors.

"So, the police come, he's tried for attempted murder. But of course, he's insane, so they send him to an asylum. I ended up living with my grandmother, and having a giant heart scarred on my back for life." Queen looked at The Joker, who simply sat there, legs crossed, and hands folded in his lap.

"So yeah," She said, feeling a bit awkward and angsty. "That was when I was like…seven, though. A good 20 years ago. So I've gotten over it, more or less." The Joker nodded.

"And where's your father now?" He asked. Queen frowned. He sure had a way with digging into someone's head and bringing up their worst memories.

"Buried in a ditch somewhere, probably," She said. "I killed him a long time ago, when he escaped from the asylum." The Joker nodded again, as if he was a therapist.

"...Do you wanna know how I got these scars?" He asked, pointed to crimson painted scars on his face. Queen blinked.

"…I guess," She said, though he'd probably lie about this story as he had done earlier. "A gruesome story for a gruesome story." The Joker nodded once again, and in a second was right in front Queen, holding her hair in his fist and positioning a knife in her mouth. She jumped, backing away and pressing her back against the chair (despite the pain it caused).

"Ah, ah, ah," Joker said. "Stay still." Queen furrowed her brow, but did so. The Joker nodded for the fourth time, and muttered a 'good girl', before speaking.

"I had a teacher once," He said, licking his lips. "He and I were good friends. Very close. He taught me everything, and told me eve-ry-thing. Eventually, we were just like brothers. He always told me that I should smile, because frowning made me look sad, and he didn't want me to be sad." He licked his lips again, making Queen feel a bit uncomfortable (his tongue that close to her face? Kinda awkward).

"He told me he was married, and he loved her so very much. I never liked her, though. She always seemed…off, somehow. So, one day, he comes to me, pale, crying, holding a knife, and covered in blood. 'She cheated on me' he says. 'She never loved me.' Then, he tells me he loved her too much, and he couldn't stand to see her with anyone besides himself. So, he killed her." She heard the emotion swell in his voice, but she couldn't say the same for his eyes, which were as empty as they always were.

"And I just couldn't look at him. I couldn't bear to think of him as a murderer. But, he begs me to look at him, begs me to smile because he can never smile again. But I just couldn't. So, he grabs me, sobbing, and sticks the knife in my mouth. 'You have to smile!' he says, and does this," The Joker motioned to his scars. "He, of course, is executed for murder. And, right until he dies, he's crying. He apologizes to me, begs for me to forgive him for turning me into a freak. And I never got to tell him that I do forgive him. And I never will."

Queen blinked, staring at The Joker, not sure if he was lying or not. "I'm sorry…about that…" She said, wincing as her tongue was cut by the knife in her mouth. The Joker laughed.

"Oh, no, no, no," He said, moving away from her and removing the knife from her mouth. "Now, there is nothing for you to be sorry about!" He grinned, and Queen was now almost positive he was lying. She nodded.

"I know," She said, fixing her crown atop her head and wincing as the cold plastic met with her burning wounds. Thinking about that, she finally realized the pain in her back and lurched forward. "Ow…!" She muttered, standing up. She didn't want to do that a third time.

Queen looked over her shoulder at her wounds to the best of her ability without causing herself pain.

"Hn...Batman kinda over did it…" She muttered, frowning at the red stains spotting the back of her shirt (luckily, however, her shirt was red as well, so they weren't very noticeable). "Seriously, throwing me into a table of glass and wine? I think a punch to the stomach would have worked just as well, and he wouldn't have to pay for repairs!"

Queen didn't know if The Joker was listening to her or not, but she was talking to herself anyway, so it didn't matter. "Though, I guess it's partly my own fault for not remembering putting my gun on safety…" Behind her, The Joker laughed, signaling he was indeed listening to her.

"Oh, no, darling," He giggled, emphasizing 'darling'. "You didn't put your gun on safety. I did!"

Queen blinked at him. "…Why?"

"I wanted to see if you'd notice!" He giggled again. "But it turned out worse than I expected. Of course, what fun is it if everything goes exactly as planned?" Queen pinched the bridge of her nose. So it was his fault that she had numerous wine-filled wounds on her back!

"Just dandy," She said, laughing slightly. She raised her eyes to look at him, a saw that he was grinning obliviously, not sorry in the least. She rolled her eyes. "Well, I forgive you," She said sarcastically. The Joker grinned wider, and turned to prance out of the room. He stopped, however, and extended his arm to point at the couch on the other side of the room.

"Ah yes, you can sleep there," He stated, before resuming prancing out the door. Queen looked at the couch, and made her way to it, wincing again at the large amount of pain burning her back. At this rate, she'd die of blood loss…

She stopped as she went to sit down, looking at small red splotches on the faded-yellow fabric of the couch cushions.

Blood.

She frowned; it figures there'd be blood on her 'bed'. Sighing, Queen sat down anyway. Her wound would only create more bloodstains on the couch, there was no point in staying off of it because of a little blood drop from someone else.

In truth, she was exhausted, but she didn't feel like sleeping. So, instead, Queen took a closer look at the room she was in.

In front of her, (as in, across from the couch) was a pool table, with one or two chairs sitting nearby it (one of which she had been sitting in previously). A chandelier hung on the ceiling outside of the doorway, and cast light into the otherwise fairly dark room. It was a nice place, considering it was where The Joker himself 'lived'.

He probably stole it from the mob, as he had done with money in the mob-run bank a few weeks prior. Not that Queen was complaining. She stole her previous lodgings from an innocent gentleman before.

She shrugged (quickly regretting it, though), and laid down on her stomach, slowly allowing her eyes to drift closed.