Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of its characters/settings.
AN: This is a shorter chapter, sorry. I'll try and make up for it with the next one.
Crane awoke that night to find his hands tied to the bedposts with what felt like pillowcases, and the Joker sitting on his legs.
"Hi, doc. Don't scream, or you'll regret it."
"What are you—"
Something in the Joker's hand flashed as he brought it down, and Crane felt a sharp pain across his stomach. He gasped, biting his lips to muffle a cry, and felt a wetness that could only be blood spreading over his skin. "Why are you—where did you get a knife?"
There was no response, at least not verbally. He felt the cold metal touch his skin once more, pausing just long enough for the anticipation to become torturous, then pressing down suddenly. He winced, struggling to keep in a scream. "What are you doing?"
"Scarin' ya. What's the matter, doc, I thought ya liked fear." A third cut. Crane couldn't keep himself from moaning, albeit quietly, and was immediately admonished by another slice. "Do ya enjoy this? Does it turn ya on?"
"Why are you doing this?" The tremble in his voice should have repulsed him, but it was the least of his concerns at the moment.
"Ya remember when I said I didn't care if ya talked to Quinzel anymore? That was only half true. I could care less if ya never speak to her again, but as long as you're still talking, I'm interested. So tonight I look through her files, and guess what I find?"
He felt the Joker's free hand on him, fingers pushing hard, swirling the blood around. Reaching up to Crane's face, staining his lips with red. "Ya told her she shouldn't trust me. That hurts, scaredy cat, that really does. What've I ever done to ya to deserve that kind of slander?"
Fuck. His heart had sped to the point where it was hard to tell where one beat ended and the next began. I'm going to be eviscerated. He's really going to kill me. Fuck.
"Did it ever occur to ya," The Joker's voice was light, conversational, and that made things all the worse. "That I'll be having a hard enough time securing this girl's trust without ya working against me, doc? Ya ever think that I might not stand for defamation of character?"
He took hold of Crane's face with his weaponless hand, forcing his mouth open, slipping the knife in before his victim could react. It pressed against the inside of his cheek, the pain even worse than the cuts on his abdomen, though it barely drew blood.
"I don't wanna have to hurt ya, Jonny. Personally, I think ya could stand to smile more, but I doubt Harley would see things from that point of view. And I'm gonna have my work cut out for me overcoming her preconceived notions anyway. But don't think I won't do this if ya push me."
He applied a bit more pressure to the knife. Crane moaned, his eyes watering. "Don't be stupid, Jonny. Don't make me cut ya. Tell her whatever the hell ya want about anything else. I'm not gonna hurt her, ya don't have to worry about that. But if ya warn her away from me again, I'll cut ya. And worse. Got it?"
He pulled the blade, still lightly embedded into Crane's face, out, giggling as the doctor shrieked. A gush of blood filled his mouth, warm and repulsive. God. I can't breathe. I'm drowning in my own blood, Christ, I'm drowning in my own blood—
The panic attack was cut short when he felt the knife again, this time pressed to his throat. "Got it, Jonny?"
"Yes." Blood leaked out the corner of his mouth as he spoke, sliding down his face.
"Good boy." The knife retracted slowly, metal dragging against skin for what felt like eternity.
Crane pulled himself up as best he could against the bedposts, his broken arm burning in protest. He glanced down at himself. The cuts on his stomach had been made under the asylum uniform, which was already showing spots of blood. "And how am I going to explain this?"
The Joker gave him a blank look, head tilted, then followed his gaze. He stared at the bloodstains for a moment, eyes widened in a mock display of shock. "Christ, scaredy cat, why would ya do something like that to yourself? You're very sick, do ya know that?"
"I see." He couldn't win a physical fight with the Joker, that he was sure of, but if Crane were able to move, he'd be trying to get his hands around this bastard's throat without a doubt. The darkness had never seemed so tempting.
"Here, let me untie ya." The Joker leaned forward, his weight pressing uncomfortably into Crane's legs. "Oh, and Jonny?"
"Yes?"
"I've read about how Batman took ya down. Forced your own toxin down your throat, right?"
He glared. As if violation wasn't enough, he was using humiliation too? "Are you going somewhere with this?" He felt a tug of fabric, somewhat painful, and his left arm was free. The Joker leaned down, mouth to Crane's ear.
"Just wanted to make sure ya get the point. If ya try and scare her off again, I'll do the same thing. Only it won't be your toxin. It'll be drain cleaner." He paused, turned his head, licking the blood from Crane's face. "And I'll use the whole damn bottle."