Note: Wow, I am so sorry that I haven't updated in such a ridiculously long time. I've been very busy, but I managed to get this chapter done.

Thank-you so much for reading, everyone. ^_^ I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker. DC Comics does, I believe. I do not own the clown minions; they would belong to the Joker. However I do own Sky Mortimer, as I made her up.

To Heal Your Scars

Chapter Ten. Hurt.

The Joker left the room, and I sat up on his bed for at least half-an-hour with thoughts running through my mind at a constant speed. Was I really like him? I knew that I was nowhere near as evil as he was, but I was able to admit to myself that I could relate to him. That I could, though I had denied it at first, understand him more than I had ever been able to understand anyone else. And I knew that he, too, understood me better than anyone. I closed my eyes as I remembered the way his ungloved hand brushed the side of my face, and how his cold, onyx eyes seemed to melt into mine as we stared into each other's faces without breaking our gaze. I snapped myself out of my daydream, silently chiding myself for thinking thoughts such as those, and I slowly lied down again on his soft mattress. I wanted the pain to subside, but my wishes were forgotten as the door opened again and the Joker stepped gallantly through. I felt my heart lurch – a new and (especially) unwanted pain in my body. I decided that I had hit my head during the fall, and that was why I was feeling some sort of sick attraction to the makeup-ed mess of a man.

"Hello there," he said, a sadistic smile upon his face. "Can't sleep?"

"Is it really that much of a surprise to you?" I asked obnoxiously, tearing my eyes from his.

"I suppose not, Princess. I brought you some sleeping pills, if you would like–"

"Do you truly think that I would take pills that you of all people gave to me? You really are insane. And I am not. Not insane. At all. Not like you, whether you choose to accept it or not," I realized that frantically repeating myself like that really would make me really seem insane, so I shut my mouth and faced away from him again, no different than a pouting child. He chuckled, amused at this, and came and sat down behind me.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked me, and I was about to ask him what he meant when I remembered that nearly my entire body was in fiery pain.

"Everywhere," I muttered.

"Well I can't help that," he replied, shaking his head at me like I was a silly child. "Where does it hurt the most?" I thought for a moment, and decided that it was my back that hurt more than the rest of my body.

"Back," I said, and he nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, and got up to stride out of the room. A few moments later he returned with a cloth. "Lie on your stomach," he commanded, and I asked him why. He held his hand with the cloth up in the air. "Ice," he said. I did as he said, and I slowly turned myself over to lie face down on his mattress. It worried me then that I couldn't see what he was doing, and my heart beat faster as I felt him sit beside me. Then without warning, I felt his hand begin to lift up my shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?!" I yelled at him, and turned over again, pains shooting through my battered body like bullets. He grinned.

"I have ice, Princess, it will numb the pain, I assure you. And it will be very inconvenient if you got your nice shirt all wet now wouldn't it?" I glared at him, and then decided that I didn't like him looming above me while I was lying on his bed, facing up at him. I turned back over, more slowly again, and let him, though my mind was screaming at me not to, lift up my top. When I felt the cold touch my back, I gasped in pain, and he shh-d me in a soothing way, and I felt his other hand on my back. It was nearly as cold as the ice was, but it soon warmed up after resting on my skin.

"Did you know that I would fall when you shut the lights off?" I asked him, hoping that he would say no, but knowing somehow that it couldn't be that simple.

"No," he replied, surprising me, and then disappointing me all over again when he resumed speaking. "But I thought you would. It was rather entertaining, though, don't you think? It certainly added some excitement to my day."

"You're sick," I quietly muttered under my breath. Anger was renewed in me, and it flowed in my veins and made my blood boil despite the ice that was pressed against my skin. "I hate you," I pointlessly said louder. I hoped it would bring to the surface some anger in him, just to get the constant amusement he seemed to find in me out of the way and he could act more like his twisted and quick-to-anger self. I wanted to hate him, and though I said I did, and tried to convince myself that I did, I knew it wasn't true. And that made me hate myself all the more.

He didn't get mad.

"Ha. You wish you did, girlie."

Oh yes, I did.

"What would you have done if I died?" I asked him before I could stop myself. He was silent for a couple of moments, and then replied.

"I probably would have picked up your lovely little body, and just for lots of fun – and just to see his reaction – hanged it outside of Bruce Wayne's penthouse window," he giggled as I felt my eyes fill with tears. "What a beautiful sight to see! I know I'd be ecstatic if you were the view I saw out of my window, Darling."

"You mean…" I stopped when my voice cracked, betraying my emotion. "You wouldn't care that I was dead? You wouldn't be upset at all?" I resumed, despite my hoarse voice and watering eyes. He thought for a few seconds more, and spoke.

"Nope. I might miss your pretty face, and your little, uh, shenanigans that happen every so often that are so much fun, but you, my dear, are quite expendable," he paused to clear his throat. "I must admit that I do like you quite a bit more than any other hostage I've ever had, but that really isn't saying very much, is it?" He stopped talking and then abruptly flipped me onto my back, causing me to cry out in pain. He ignored it and leaned down so close to me I could feel his breath on my lips as he whispered slyly to me. "But as you very well know, I find that you're quite similar to me, and that, Sweetheart, I am quite happy with… for the time being, anyway." And then without warning, he planted a kiss on my bruised cheek and then got up from the bed and swept from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears.

-----

The next day I felt better and worse. My muscles ached terribly, but I didn't feel as broken as I had the night before. I slowly propped myself on my elbows and looked about the Joker's room. After our conversation, he hadn't come back to visit me at all the day before except to bring me meals, which were so disgusting I hadn't eaten them anyway.

I sat like that for a while longer, then lied back down on the bed again, bored and wondering how long I had been in the Joker's room for. I looked for a clock, and I was surprised (and slightly annoyed) when I couldn't find one. Time was irrelevant where I was, but I suddenly wanted to know. There was only one window in the room, and it had bars, boards, and a purple curtain pulled over it. Besides, it was small and high up, like a basement window, though it wasn't one. Artificial light filtered in from under the door, but that gave me no indication of what time it was. I assumed that it was dark out though, because during the day the factory lights weren't usually turned on.

Finally, after becoming fed up with lying in the bed bored out of my mind with nothing to think about but what time it was, I got out of the bed. A shock went through my system when my feet touched the cold floor, but I persevered and pushed myself out and toward the door. I grinned when I felt my hand on the door and was about to pull it open when I heard voices outside the door. Curious, I leaned one ear against the door and close my eyes to listen.

"Boss, where do you want all this stuff?" I heard a male voice ask.

"Down the hall," The Joker said, sounding exasperated like he'd already gone over it with his moronic minion. "And set it up so it's ready when I get there. I don't want to waste any time. Oh and make sure there's a chair. She should have a chair to sit on."

"Yes, Sir." The minion clown said, and I heard his footsteps begin and then fade as they moved further away from the door. Panicked, I realized that if the Joker opened the door he would realize that I was listening to his conversation so, as quickly as I could, I retreated back to the bed. I lied down and pulled the covers up to my face and shut my eyes, and not seconds later the Joker glided into the room like a morbid sort of prince dressed in a purple suit. I heard him walk over to the bed and bend down close to my face.

"Wakey, wakey, Sweetheart," He whispered and I could feel his lips brushing my ear. "It's time to get up." He giggled. "We have a little game to play."