Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is… THE JOKER IN HIS NURSE COSTUME! WITH A REINDEER PIN! AND COOKIES AND MILK! Hopefully not poisoned…

A/N: I LOVE YOU, TUNA, WHOMEVER YOU MAY BE.

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The Insanity of Reason

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Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you
Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through
Dismantle me down (repair)
You dismantle me
You dismantle me

Give me time to prove
Prove I want the rest of yours (prelude)
Call this a prelude to a lifetime of you
It's not that I hang on every word
I hang myself on what you repeat
It's not that I keep hanging on
I'm never letting go

- Dismantle. Repair by Anberlin

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Chapter Seven: Distracted

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"Hold still," I awoke to the Joker's weight pressed on top of me, squeezing my arms to my sides with his knees. He was bent forward, examining something on my breast. My eyes nervously darted down and spied the wire stitches. I had almost forgot about those. He carried a small knife in his hand while the other cupped my breast. His tongue poked out of the corner of his red mouth as the tip of the blade brushed against the my skin. My breath caught in my chest when he slipped the razor beneath the visible stitches. They came undone quickly and I whimpered as I felt the wire slide out of my flesh. He tossed the stitches somewhere onto the floor and got off. I gently touched the tender area and winced. Then I thought, Rick's dead. Before the thought could completely compute in my brain, the Joker said,

"Get dressed. We're going out." He tossed a brown paper bag at me. I opened it hesitantly and the paper crinkled mournfully against my hands. I pulled out a black hoodie, some vermilion skinny jeans and a strappy black tank top. A small make-up kit was wrapped in the pants. I peeked up at him. He was carelessly throwing off his clothes, the ones I had worked so hard to make. I supposed that he expected me to clean up after him later, if and when we returned. I peeled off the over sized shirt I had been wearing and cautiously sniffed the one he had given me. I looked over at his suddenly still form to find him staring at me. He was naked, one eyebrow arched expectantly as a warning. I dressed in good haste. The jeans rode low on my hips and bunched at my calves and ankles. The top hugged my frame more snuggly than I was comfortable with and every time I moved, the fabric inched up. The jacket was a little big, but it was far more comfortable than the tank top. I squatted, rolling up the pant legs a little. I heard the shower run as I slipped on the black flip-flops. They felt sticky and worn from use. My nose crinkled and I brushed out my hair as best as I could with my fingers. I probably looked liked some deranged crack whore. I sure as hell felt like one. I applied the concealer to my face and neck, hoping to blend my skin into one even color.

The Joker ignored me when he reemerged from the bathroom, towel drying his hair. He shook himself out like a wet dog, growling and making an odd, motorboat noise. For one bizarre moment, he reminded me of a pet that had belonged to an old neighbor. The mutt had been overly excitable, almost consistently foaming at the mouth from his spazing. He would bark, sudden and random, before rolling around on the grass with a deranged grin. The Joker dropped the towel and moved to the dresser. He muttered something nonsensical (probably something about Batman and Jell-O for all I knew) as he dug around the middle drawer. Finding and pulling on a pair of violet boxer briefs, he began to speak.

"We're-uh going to r-un some er-unds." He slipped into some brown skinny corduroys and tugged a black Sid Vicious shirt on. The Joker plopped down on the edge of the bed to yank on green, argyle socks. He laced up his purple high top converse. "If I catch you doing anything, ah- anything, hm…" He tapped his lips thoughtfully. "Anything I don't like, I'll punish you." He straightened. "Got it?"

It took a moment for me to nod, a moment too slow. I knew in that instant he didn't like it. His scars twitched as he growled, advancing towards me. He gripped my face, tilting my head back so far, my neck cracked.

"I don't think we're quite on the same page." I suddenly felt the cool, thin edge of a knife on my throat "If you do anything that I don't lie-kuh, I'll get angry. And when I get angry, I get mean. Real mean." He shook his head vigorously. "Got it?"

"Got it." I managed to choke out. There was a pause and the blade disappeared into his giggles. He grabbed my hand, more so out of control than affection. Dragging me out of the room, he steered us through a hall and into an elevator. He slammed the pad of his thumb onto the level one button and the doors screeched shut. Releasing my hand, he fished a small rubber band out from his pocket and pulled back his wet hair. A few strands bounced free, falling into his eyes and framing his face.

It had been a while since I had seen his naked face. Without the make-up, his scars seemed harsher, more defined. His eyes, although they never failed to lose their edge, seemed more human; his mouth, less cruel. It was easier to be in his presence like this, with this pretense of normalcy. I cocked my head to the side, eyeing him as sneakily as possible. He seemed thinner, lankier even, without the bulk of my suit. He glanced down at me,

"See something you lie-kuh?" He sneered, a cruel echo of the last time he caught me staring. I flinched,

"No, I mean- yes, no! I-" I ducked my head, embarrassed. He chuckled and briefly, I thought that the situation could've been normal. A guy with a girl, simple as that. He just teased her over something silly and she- she was just reacting… normally… Just the way Rick and I- Oh, God… Rick… The Joker licked his lips and gave my hand a squeeze. I instantly looked up, "Yes?" I asked faintly,

"Nothing," his reply was curt. I averted my eyes. We left the elevator and he took me to a waiting taxi. Lenny sat in the driver's seat.

"Where to, Boss?"

"Downtown," the Joker snapped, "Make it fast," The tires screeched on the pavement and I winced as the weak sunlight filtered into the dingy windows. I peered outside, the skyscrapers horrifically imposing against the pale, gray sky.

"How long have I been gone?" I asked, my voice emitting in a rasp. The Joker picked at his nails,

"Ten days,"

"Ten days," I repeated, whispering. It felt like longer. I blinked a few times, surprised at the warm damp, prickling that hinted behind my eyelids. I carefully dabbed the corners of my eyes, looking up at the carpeted roof of the cab. I felt the Joker watching me. I swallowed, "What is it?"

"Hm?"

"You keep staring at me," my voice was small, "is there something on my face?" I pressed my fingers against my cheek. He shook his head,

"No, no. Can't a man look at his toys?" His lips spread across his teeth and for some reason, the grin seemed more playful than malicious. I folded my hands in my lap and didn't answer. He appeared to be content with the silence, so we drove on like that until Lenny pulled up to a bustling sidewalk. The Joker gripped my wrist, "No funny stuff,"

"No," I said hastily, "Of course not," He held my hand, waving Lenny goodbye. His long fingers interlaced with my own, but only to keep a better grasp. I stared at my feet, not daring to look up as we meandered the street, "What sort of errands are we running?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Some newspaper, office supplies, the usual," He replied, waving his hand dismissively. As he spoke, we passed a stand, so he doubled back and browsed the selections. All the headlines were the same. JUDGE SURILLO DEAD! COMISSIONER GILLIAN B. LOEB MURDERED! WHAT IS GCPD DOING? My blood trickled into ice and my fingers tightened around the Joker's. He offered me a little smile and something in me knew that he was responsible. It must have been a peculiar sight; a small, Korean woman, face drawn, hand in hand with her tall, white boyfriend, care free and flipping through some newspapers. If only they knew that "he" was the Joker, the man responsible for the utter chaos Gotham was descending into, and that "she" was an innocent civilian, a bystander, a victim kidnapped and caught up in the mess he created.

Caught up? Well, not necessarily, I mused. The Joker had kept me out of his affairs, blind to the things he was doing. In a way, I was grateful. I didn't want to know the gruesome, gory details of his work. I cringed when I thought of how I had used the term "boyfriend". Oh, sweet Jesus. I could only imagine the family holidays. "Hi, mom, hi, dad. I want to introduce you to my psychotic serial killing boyfriend! No, I don't know his real name. How did we meet? Well, that's a funny story. You see…"

The Joker jerked on my arm, pulling me out of my nightmare and into stride with him,

"What's with you?" He grumbled, "You're acting all dazed and confused. Did you decide to eat all of the pain medication I got?" I stopped dead in my tracks and he looked at me,

"What's with me? What's with you?" I blurted, "You're starting to scare me," He moved in like a cobra, looming over me, head cocked to the side,

"Starting to?" He raised an eyebrow and I flushed at our proximity,

"That's not what I meant,"

"What did you mean?" The Joker practically purred. I gave him a baffled gaze,

"This niceness. You're almost… almost…"

"Almost what?" I didn't dare say it and I glanced away. The other passersby didn't take note of us, simply bustled around us, wrapped up in their own lives and problems, the people they had to see, places they had to go.

"Flirtatious," I whispered. He blinked before throwing his head back, laughing. I felt my face get hotter. The Joker sounded pleasant now and I grew dizzy with all of his bi-polar tendencies. I tried tugging my hand away but his hold was strong. He pulled me along side him as he continued walking,

"And I thought my jokes were bad," He said cheerily. This time, I chose not to question him, "You looked starved," He finally voiced and pushed me into a place called Dina's. It was an old, fifties style diner, obviously a chain but the Joker spoke smoothly to the hostess (a bored, unnatural blond high school girl) who led us to a booth. He sat across from me, sliding into the red vinyl seat, his long legs wrapping around my ankles, preventing any escape. Like I could escape. He'd be on me in a heartbeat, pummeling my face into the concrete like there was no tomorrow.

"Hmmm, so, you asked me earlier," I looked up from my inspection of the circular straw dispenser, "How long I'd been watching you," I didn't reply, staring into his eyes. He worked his mouth, raising one eyebrow, then the other, "Quite a while," He sucked on his teeth as a waiter poured us ice water, "Since… hmmm…. Since you were at Arkham, on a field trip with your psychopharmacology class from Gotham Medical," I blinked,

"Wow… um… that's uh, that's quite a while," It had been two years ago, when Dr. Jonathan Crane was still working at Arkham. In fact, he had been one of our tour guides. I had been dating Rick at the time. The Joker nodded,

"I suppose that means we're meant to be," He said dryly. It took me a moment to realize that he was trying to distract me. I felt something inside me soften and as much as I didn't want it to, I did.

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Oooo, and the plot thickens. Yay for Dr. Crane! I'm working on a story for him and don't worry, kids; a sequel is in the works for this, too. If you have any ideas for the errands Kim and the Joker will be running, let me know. I just wanted them out of the rundown hotel for a little bit.

Reviews are Love,

The Author.