Author's Notes: Something I thought some of you might be interesting in knowing: back in chapter six, when the Joker is cutting the assassin's face into pieces, I had in my original draft actually written a scene where Taylor was standing at the top of the stairs, watching as the Joker murdered the assassin. Because I knew that a lot of people were expecting that to happen, however, I decided not to add that scene. All the progress that the Joker and Taylor had made and their special character dynamic with each other would have been ruined. All the trust that Taylor had placed in the Joker would have come to a screeching halt, and I would have had to backtrack and kind of rebuild everything from the bottom up again. That, ultimately, would have delayed the plot from advancing further.
On a side note, I would like to offer a special shout-out to PoisonLipz because she sends me the most beautiful messages. I would like to make a shout-out to freakwriterCHM as well for always leaving me such wonderful reviews. I appreciate both of you two as well as everyone else so incredibly much. I cannot believe the feedback I've received for this story; I'm in awe. Thank you all so much. I don't believe I deserve all this, but I appreciate it a lot. You guys are awesome.
Chapter Seven
The snow that lay outside was a brilliant and blinding shade of white, despite the overcast and gray clouds above, and, as the Joker stood with one arm outstretched in the open doorway, he licked his chapped lips impatiently.
Taylor was wide-eyed with wonder while the icy breeze coming in through the doorway whipped her blonde tangles around her face.
"Come on come on," he urged quickly, gesturing to the door once more. Someone could see them at anytime; it was, after all, still early in the day, and he was certainly not in the mood to be hounded by the GPD—or anybody else for that matter.
She glanced at him uncertainly from her spot by the stairs and then, suddenly, hurried over to the window seat, her backpack bouncing behind her as she ran to grab her teddy bear, not wanting to leave her furry friend behind.
Finally ready to leave, the Joker waited for Taylor to pass through the door first before following behind her. But Taylor wouldn't move.
"What are you doing?" he asked impatiently, narrowing his eyes. This girl was really starting to get on his last nerves. He wasn't a very patient man when it came to certain matters, and she was only adding fuel to the fire.
Taylor simply looked down at her feet. "I don't have my shoosies on."
"Your what?"
"My—my shoosies. I can't go outside without them," she explained, glancing up at him warily upon hearing the sudden change in his voice.
The Joker scoffed and rolled his eyes, and, before he even knew what he was doing, suddenly dipped down to scoop her up in his arms. He adjusted her so that her legs dangled over his abdomen and his arm was wrapped tightly under her knees, leaving her to sit on his forearm. She pressed her lips together and awkwardly held her bear in her lap as the man holding her strode out of the apartment and into the frigid air, snow shifting beneath his shoes.
Taylor was immediately mesmerized by the winter wonderland around them, and despite her initial hesitation, started to clap her hands in delight, clutching her bear closer to her as she giggled excitedly. "Do you see all this snow, Mr. J?" she asked eagerly, staring at the white powder in amazement. "I really like it," she gushed.
The Joker didn't respond, and instead, tightened his grasp around her as his shoes met the slick and icy pavement.
"Where are all the polar bears, Mr. J?" came Taylor's sudden, inquiring voice. "I read a book that said polar bears live in the snow," she explained, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes as she studied the Joker carefully from up close. She let her eyes openly roam over the thick, braided tissue of his scars as she talked. "Are they all sleeping in their igloos?"
He didn't answer her once again, thinking that maybe if he didn't she would stop asking all these nonsensical questions. Instead, he continued walking, his eyes darting left and right, making sure that he wasn't being watched. He really should have waited until evening to pull off this little escapade, but in all honesty, he just didn't have the patience for it. He was very . . . curious to find this Durante character so he could find out who this man who wore a "black mask" was.
And more importantly, why this man who wore a "black mask" wanted him dead in the first place. The Joker had been locked up in Arkham for the past three months, and for all the people of Gotham knew, the Joker had simply disappeared after his escape and left Gotham for good. He hadn't shown his face ever since escaping and hadn't been causing any trouble . . . so why was somebody so adamant about wanting him dead? Unless they knew he really wasn't gone in the first place?
That was an interesting concept, something he would definitely have to ponder at a later time. The Joker hoped that this "black masked" character wasn't going to interfere with his plans to bring Batman back into the spotlight.
Wait a second . . .
The man in the "black mask" . . .
It couldn't be . . . Batman . . . could it?
The Joker's steps involuntarily slowed as he thought over the prospect, his mind suddenly whirling and turning at frantic speeds. It couldn't be Batman, he thought; Batman wouldn't have hired a mob boss to kill him.
But then again, Batman never killed anyone. Sure, he may injure them a little, but he never killed them. Was this Batman's way of getting rid of him for good, without killing the clown himself?
Why would Batman do that?
No . . . no. It just didn't make sense. The Joker knew Batman too well. Batman . . . he wouldn't do that. The people of Gotham may think that Batman was a coldblooded killer, murdering Harvey Dent and all, but the Joker knew better than that.
Batman was too weak to kill.
But if the man in the "black mask" wasn't Batman, then who was it?
"You're so strong," Taylor suddenly commented, breaking the Joker out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Her small hand moved to encompass his upper arm, but she quickly discovered that she couldn't even wrap her fingers around it.
Showing no outwards signs of even acknowledging the fact that she had spoken, he set her on the ground once the two of them had reached the car and then proceeded to brush the snow off the windshield. Taylor's legs wobbled slightly and she shifted uncomfortably as water seeped through the rubber padding on the bottom of her footsie pajamas.
Once the Joker had cleared all the windows of snow and ice, he bent down to remove her backpack, pushing the heavy object off her shoulders as Taylor's teeth began to chatter. "It's cold," she whispered, studying the Joker's dark eyes as he slid her backpack off her shoulders and opened the car door, chucking the item into the backseat.
He placed his hands under her arms and then lifted her into the passenger seat, none-too-gently dropping her into it. Placing his hands on the seat, he leaned over her so he could press the button on the driver's side door to pop open the trunk. Once it opened, he went over to the back of the car and pushed aside random objects until he found what he was looking for. When he returned, he carelessly threw the object into her lap.
It was a blanket.
He put his hand on the top of the car to support his weight, the door behind his back, and leaned down to look at her. "Better?" he questioned, raising his brows. He didn't want her complaining the whole time about how cold the car was, so he figured he might as well solve the problem now, especially seeing as how the heater didn't work.
Taylor situated the oversized blanket so it was draped over her legs and then pulled it up to her chin. "Yes," she replied after a moment. "Thank you Mr. J," she said bashfully, snuggling farther into the blanket and turning a shade of pink under his scrutinizing gaze. He silently nodded and was about to shut the door when Taylor stopped him. "Wait!" He raised his brows expectantly, his hand resting on the top of the door, ready to close it. "Aren't you gonna put me in my car seat?" she squeaked, sounding worried.
Growling low in his throat, he rolled his eyes and bent down into the car so he could lean over her to buckle her seatbelt. Once she was all strapped in, he placed both of his hands on either side of her seat and glared darkly at her, challenging her with his eyes and daring her to question him further.
"Oh—okay," she stuttered, obviously receiving the silent message he had sent through his eyes.
After staring at her for a moment, he suddenly flashed her a dirty grin, amused by her feebleness. He brought up a gloved hand to the side of her face and roughly patted her cheek with it, laughing. "You're a riot, girl." He was still grinning as he pushed himself up off her seat and slammed her door shut. Taylor had no idea what a "riot" was, but she hoped it was something good.
A few moments later, the Joker had slid into the driver's seat and turned on the car. It sputtered for a second but eventually came to life, and he couldn't help but feel relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was waste his time looking for another car he could . . . borrow. He couldn't call a cab, especially not with Taylor with him, and he didn't have the patience to wait for one of his boys to come and pick him up, either. He hated having to depend on other people to do things for him, mostly because other people always ended screwing everything up. Best to do everything yourself. No mistakes that way.
Shifting the gear out of park and into drive, the Joker sped off down the street, the rubber tires sliding effortlessly across the icy asphalt as they sped away from the apartment building. Taylor watched in silent interest as skyscrapers and buildings from the other side of the harbor all passed in a blur of tall, looming gray steel beneath the overcast sky.
She smiled to herself as she snuggled deeper into the passenger seat, pulling the heavy blanket up to her chin once more and folding her arms around her bear. She was so glad for a change in scenery. She hadn't been out of the house in a long time, and it felt good to ride in a car again. She hadn't done that in a while either. Since her mother was always working, Taylor didn't get to go out much. And even then the two of them had always taken a cab, which had usually smelt awful and the seats were always dirty and ripped. She didn't particularly like them, to say the least.
Pursing her lips together, she suddenly turned her head away from the window and looked at the Joker. "Are we gonna cross that bridge over there?" She pointed out her window to a large suspension bridge a few miles away that connected the Narrows with Gotham City.
"Mhm," he replied distractedly, his dark eyes directed on the road in front of him, both hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel.
"Why?"
The Joker felt his tongue along the contours of his mouth, suddenly wishing that Taylor would just shut up and stop asking questions. "Because we are going to Goth-am," he replied through gritted teeth.
"Why?"
He was silent for a moment, contemplating the choices he could answer her with in his head. "We're just gonna see an old . . . friend." He narrowed his eyes at the road in front of him. Durante Maroni wasn't really an "old friend," but Taylor didn't need to know that small, skewered detail.
She cocked her head to the side curiously. "Do you have a lot of friends, Mr. J?"
The Joker worked his mouth from side to side, his eyes locked onto the road ahead. "No," he said unblinkingly, his voice as rough as sandpaper. How the hell do you tell a little girl that you kill people for a living and that you're the most wanted man in the whole city?
"Oh," she replied, biting her bottom lip. "Well," she looked towards him with wide eyes, "Teddy wants to be your friend," she explained cordially.
The Joker couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his ruined mouth. "He does, does he?"
"Yeah," she said slowly, still gazing up at him.
He smirked to himself and drove in silence, the back streets of the Narrows strangely empty despite the occasional homeless person trying to keep warm in a pile of snow. He found it odd that no one was out, especially considering the time of day. It was nearly rush hour, so where was everybody?
As he thought it over in his head, the answer suddenly occurred to him when he passed by an old restaurant and saw a wreath hanging on the door.
Well, that was why no one was out.
It was Christmas. How could he have forgotten?
Oh Christmas; the "joyous" holiday where families put aside their differences and came together to share presents and little frosted snowman cookies and hugs and fake smiles and disgusting fruit cake and . . . love.
Ha. Love.
What a sick, twisted foray of feelings.
The Joker didn't believe in love. It didn't really even exist in his mind, though he knew it was out there, somewhere. He simply believed that nobody in the world had really, truly experienced it yet. Some people spent their whole lives searching for their "soul mate" or their "true love", and then, once they found them, they continued their never ending search for that "happily ever after" ending. An unobtainable goal, ultimately. Funny thing was, if their love was really real, they wouldn't have to search for that storybook ending to begin with. Their love would be enough and they wouldn't need anything else. But that really wasn't the case, was it? No one was ever genuinely satisfied, nobody's life was perfect despite their continuous strive for it.
In the end, "love" —in its most diluted and common-found state—was a sign of weakness. A fickle emotion that would betray you without so much as a second glance. So many people were imbued with the false idea that love was "wonderful" and "beautiful" and "exciting".
Yeah right.
Call him cynical, but the Joker viewed love as an emotion for the weak-hearted. It was for the people who were dependent upon others for their own survival. Love was for the callow, the needy . . . the people who had nothing better to do with their time than to just waste it away pretending that they cared when they didn't. Love was a fantasy, an escape from the way things truly were—which was ultimately a dark and disgusting reality.
And in this city, that was exactly how things were. Dark and disgusting.
And he liked it that way.
"Mr. J," Taylor suddenly called, breaking him out of his thoughts, "my head really hurts," she said with a furrowed brow.
"It's gonna be like that for a few days, doll face," he replied quietly, finally breaking his own silence. His voice was low and sounded slightly off to his own ears, so he coughed to clear his throat.
Taylor didn't reply, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her frowning and gently rubbing her hand against the back of her head. "Can't you make it better?"
He decided not to reply as he drove down the ice-slicked street, making the ride silent save for the quiet hum of the car. As he drove, he became vaguely aware of the fact that Taylor was staring fixatedly at him. He shot her a brief glance out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "See somethin' you like, baby doll?" he asked sardonically, shifting in his seat and both of his hands still gripping the wheel.
Taylor bowed her head to glance at her bear and then looked back up to look at the Joker once more. "Teddy likes you," she said bashfully, a small, unsure smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He—he wants to know if—if you like him . . . too . . . ." she trailed off.
The Joker ran his tongue over the inside of his left cheek, feeling the rigid, uneven flesh of his scars from the inside. "I might," he replied cryptically. He knew that Taylor wasn't really talking about her bear; she wanted to know if he liked her.
His answer seemed to placate all her questions for the time being, and for the next three hours, the car ride was surprisingly silent.
Taylor sat perfectly still in her seat, cuddling her blanket and her bear as she stared out the window interestedly. They had long since passed over the bridge and left the Narrows, and were now right in the heart of Gotham, in the City Hall district. The Joker glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw that it read 4:48; about three more hours to go.
"Mr. J?" Taylor's soft voice suddenly broke through the silence and she turned in her seat to face him.
"Hm?" he asked, taking his eyes off the empty road in front of him for just a moment to look at her.
She looked bored and sleepy, and her wet hair had now completely dried and was now just a tangled mess of long, blonde locks. "Teddy wants to eat."
He inwardly groaned. He wished she would stop indirectly referring to herself through her bear.
"Why won't Teddy tell me that himself?" He hissed the last word through his teeth.
Taylor looked slightly surprised by his question, and she stared at her bear as if he would provide her with an answer. "Well . . . he doesn't like to talk to strangers," she explained stoically, carefully thinking over her words.
"But I thought we were friends?" he quickly countered, throwing her a sideways glance to see her reaction.
Taylor huffed exasperatedly, having nothing to say back to him. After a moment, she finally replied. "Aren't you hungry too?" she whined.
"No."
Pause.
" . . . Oh." She licked her lips and sat back in her seat.
After several more moments of silence, Taylor suddenly giggled unexpectedly.
The Joker's brows furrowed and he looked over to her. Seeing his confused expression, she was quick to elucidate. "My tummy made a funny noise," she giggled again, her eyes shining brightly.
"Very funny," he replied dryly, glancing uninterestedly at the speedometer. By chance, his eyes happened to roam over the fuel gauge, and he noticed that it was low. Glancing around him first, he suddenly pulled the car off into a short, narrow alleyway and turned it off.
Taylor looked around confusedly at the snow piled high up against the alley walls and the dead end straight in front of them where a large, green trash canister sat. "Are we at your friend's house?" she asked, unsure.
Without answering her, he suddenly opened the door and pushed a button to open the trunk before sliding out of his seat. As an afterthought, he turned back towards the door and leaned down, looking at Taylor sternly. "Stay here," he ordered.
"Where are you—?"
The Joker shut the door in her face before she could finish her sentence.
As an eerie silence settled over the interior of the car, panic quickly began to wash over Taylor and her breathing quickened. She frantically twisted in her seat, irritably pushing her seatbelt behind her as she struggled to look out the back window, eager to see where the Joker was going.
"Mr. J?" she called out hoarsely.
Her throat suddenly felt dry and tight as her eyes darted around the outsides of the car, not spotting him anywhere. She couldn't see out the back window because the hood of the trunk was open and blocking her view.
Whimpering nervously, she began to cry.
Outside the car, the Joker had retrieved a red container full of gasoline from the trunk and was filling up the car with it, stretching his long legs as he did so. It felt good to finally be out of the constricting confines of the car. Holding the plastic gas can in one hand, he rocked back on his heels, stretching his legs, and looking up at the sky as he did so. The clouds were beginning to darken just over the horizon, and it wasn't because it was getting later in the evening.
Bad storm tonight, he thought, running his tongue along the outer rim of his bottom lip.
Once the red canister was empty, he closed the nozzle and put the object back in the trunk of the car before shutting it. Going back to the driver's side door and opening it, he slid inside once again. He started the car without even glancing at Taylor and put his hand on the back of her headrest as he began to back up out of the alley. Only when he heard a loud sniffle did he crane his neck to look at her.
There were fresh tears streaming down her cheeks and her green eyes were glistening, her face contorted in a sad frown.
Grimacing, he stopped the car. "What's the matter with you?" He wasn't feeling sympathetic for her, nor was he showing her concern. He was just flat out pissed off. Little kids were so damn fickle. Smiling one minute and crying their eyes out the next. She's probably upset because I slammed the door in her face.
She swallowed thickly and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her palm, suddenly becoming very nervous as she stared into the Joker's black eyes. "You left," she said through a hiccupped sob.
"Your point?" he snapped irritably.
Taylor hiccupped again and folded her trembling hands in her lap, wanting nothing more than to just throw herself at the Joker and bury herself in his arms. She just wanted him to hold her and assure her that everything was alright. But somehow she sensed that jumping into his arms would just make him more angry, which was something she did not want to do, if only for her own safety and well-being. "I thought you weren't going to come back like my—my mommy."
The Joker stared at her with a blankly, slowly beginning to realize just how attached and dependent she was becoming of him. It was . . . strange. No one had ever depended on him for anything. No one had actually ever needed him like she did. He found the very thought of it weirdly disconcerting as he watched her gaze drop back into her lap.
Not wanting to make her any promises he couldn't—wouldn't keep—he turned away from her and continued to back out of the alley. Once back on the street, he dropped his foot onto the accelerator pedal and kept his eyes on the road, speeding down it at speeds over sixty-five miles per hour.
Letting his thoughts stray from Taylor, he leaned his head over the steering wheel and looked up at the sky once more. Just as he had suspected, it was darkening with storm clouds, and they loomed low and dangerously over the road ahead of them. Taylor seemed to notice them too.
"Do—do you think my mommy got lost?" She was staring at her lap, carefully interlacing her small fingers with one another.
No, he wanted to tell her, or, she's gone for good, he should have said, but simply for the sake of saving himself from more of her tears, he didn't. "Maybe," he answered instead.
Taylor sighed heavily and tenderly touched the back of her head, gently fingering the still-fresh wound there from when she had been knocked unconscious.
As the sky darkened and the air inside the car got cooler, Taylor began to slowly drift off to sleep, her small body wrapped snugly in the blanket and her head resting against the side of the door just beneath the window.
The Joker had long since left the inner city and was now traveling on a small, paved, winding road through the countryside on the outskirts of Gotham. Despite it only being six o'clock, the sky was a dark shade of charcoal gray and black storm clouds loomed threateningly over the barren and desolate fields on the right side of the car. On the opposite side of the road was a heavily wooded area, upon which lay a myriad of tall trees, all of which were covered in snow.
All of these things passed by in a blur as the Joker sped down the road at dangerous speeds, intent on reaching his destination quickly and before the weather got bad.
Nearly half an hour later, after passing countless open fields, old, barbed-wire fences, and scattered, abandoned barns, the Joker now found himself in a motel parking lot. It was shrouded by trees in a heavily wooded area, just outside of Aporo Park, and could hardly be seen from the road if you weren't looking carefully enough.
Driving slowly through the snow, the Joker pulled into the mostly-empty parking lot of the The Sharatan Motel. The big, bright blue neon sign had some of its letters burnt out and read something more along the lines of The Sharatan Motel.
Ha. What a bad joke. They should really get that fixed.
After shutting off the car, the Joker stared tiredly at the old, concrete building. The white plaster building was cracked and stained with dirt. The wooden shutters that adorned either side of the windows was a bright and annoying shade of aqua, while white, plastic lawn chairs were seated outside under the overhead porch. The whole place just looked incredibly tacky and severely outdated. Even so, the Joker knew that he was definitely in the right place.
Hearing a small moan from beside him, he turned to look at Taylor to watch her just as she waking from her nap, her body curled up snuggly in the blanket he had given her and her bear still clutched in her arms. She never let go out that little thing, did she?
She swallowed thickly and looked around confusedly. The Joker watched as her eyelashes fluttered wildly, also noticing that her cheeks were pink from being pressed up against the side of the door for so long.
"Are we at your friend's house?" she asked quietly, her eyes tiredly roaming over the dashboard, examining the surroundings outside the car.
"We'll visit him tomorrow," the Joker replied, taking the keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car. He walked around the front of it and then opened Taylor's door for her.
As she was met with a blast of cold air, she winced. "Where are we?" she asked tiredly and through half lidded eyes, slowly pushing the blanket off her legs and to the floor as she waited for the Joker's response.
He swiped his tongue over his lips as he leaned down over her seat to undo her seatbelt. "The Satan Motel," was his only reply, and he hoisted Taylor up out of her seat and into his arms. It had just begun to snow again and the white, icy flakes stung her skin as they were whipped wildly around in the air. She wrapped her arms around the Joker's neck and rested her chin on his shoulder while the frigid wind sharply bit at her skin and stung her eyes, making them water. Frowning, she buried her face in the crook of his neck as a way to shield her eyes from the biting cold, finding solace in the warmth of his bare skin.
The Joker momentarily stiffened at feeling her humid exhales of breath against his neck. A second later, however, he relaxed and began to trample through the snow and towards the entrance of the motel.
Now standing next to the glow of two soda machines by the front entrance, he opened the door and stepped inside. Warmth immediately encompassed the both of them and he felt Taylor lift her head from his neck to gaze about the dimly lit room.
It was small and poorly decorated, that much was clear. There was a peach-colored floral couch on one wall and a picture of a sailboat behind it on pale, orange walls. A stack of magazines rested on the glass coffee table in front of the couch and a small, glass bowl sat next to them for cigarette butts. Behind them, there was the sound of droning voices, and the Joker turned to see a small black television set sitting on top of a stand in the corner, the antenna on top of it twisted at an awkward angle. 'It's a Wonderful Life' was playing on TCM.
Bending down to place Taylor on the floor, she slid easily out of his arms and looked around the room interestedly as she regained her balance on the floor, keeping close to the Joker's side.
On the other side of the room was a tall white desk with a single tissue box and a stack of business cards set neatly on top of it, and the Joker strode towards it. Taylor followed closely at his heels, clutching his pinstriped pants tightly while her other hand held Teddy close to her side.
Seeing that no one was at the front desk and noticing that there was a light on in the back room, the Joker cleared his throat loudly.
There was a rustling of fabric and someone mumbling, and only a moment later a man appeared dressed in brown slacks and a dark green polo. "May I help—oh."
The man looked drowsy from lack of sleep, but his features instantly changed when he recognized that it was the Joker who was standing in the lobby of his motel. He ran a hand over his short, crew-cut hair, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I was expecting you earlier . . . sir."
"Yeah, well, I'm here now," he replied, suddenly recalling when he had told Taylor almost the exact same thing just earlier that day. "Is that a problem?" he added darkly, his hand wanting to reach inside his jacket just so he could feel that familiar cold steel beneath his fingertips.
"Uh, no . . . no," the man faltered, "not at all. I'll uh, I'll get your room key and be right back, alright?" The Joker nodded and impatiently watched him leave the room. Once he was gone, he turned and straightened out his jacket, brushing the snow off the lapels of his suit.
Taylor was still clutching onto his pant leg and was also half leaning on him for support, her face pressed up against his thigh and her eyes closed. "Tired?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at her.
She only nodded in reply and wound her arms more tightly around his leg, sighing heavily.
"Well too bad," he said lowly, bending down to roughly pull her off his leg. She stumbled backwards with a hurt expression on her face and frowned dejectedly as she bent down to pick up her teddy bear.
The Joker was about to reprimand her again when, without warning, a blast of cold air suddenly swept through the room and the front door burst open.
Well, this ought'a be interesting.
