A/N: I'm sorry this is so late. I was struggling with how to write this and I'm still unsure about it but I'm sure you're all DYING to know how this turns out. So I wrote this the best that I could... and honestly I think it came out pretty damn well. The idea is a bit confusing so I'll do the best I can to explain it at the end.
So this picks up right after the Joker leaves the office. It gets a bit confusing at one point so let me explain. Sadly,Dr. Franklin actually got somewhere and well... the Joker's insanity now has a purpose.
Song: "Waking the Demon" by Bullet for my Valentine
Helpless, My eyes are bleeding from the fear that's inside, You sealed your demise when you took what was mine, Don't try to stop me from avenging this world, No voice to be heard. Waking The Demon, Where'd you run to? Walk in the shadows, Watch the blood flow, There's not much longer, so don't try and fight... Caution, There's just no limits to the boundaries you push I warned you but still you just fuck with my mind!... There's no escape from this rage that I feel, Nothing is real! Breathe on me! Don't wake me from this slumber. Stay With me Possession taking over
Waking the Demon
The Joker allowed the men next to him to lead him back to his cell without a word, which was strange because he usually taunted them with dark jokes about the murders he's commit over the past few months… and considering the numerous murders he has committed over the past few months the fact that he was so quiet was strange, but the guards barely noticed. They were preoccupied with trying to predict his movements.
The Joker wasn't thinking about them though… his mind was relaxing after nearly being snapped in half. He lay down on his cot and stared at the ceiling.
That stupid cunt… thinking she could burrow into his mind like that… the thought made him chuckle. The fucking narcissist… then again that narcissism was what saved him. She mentally had to include herself into her analysis. He'll admit she had gotten close when she started reminding him of what he had lost to the depths of the world… but then she implied that she could be worthy of taking Harley's place.
That implication would cost her her life… but his chest hurt too much for him to move. He wouldn't admit it, but the real reason he wanted to kill her so badly was because she had brought Harley back into his mind. He had blocked her out since he killed Jimmy and was enjoying being Gotham's least wanted bachelor… but all that bitch wanted to talk about was Harley and his feelings for her.
While thinking of Harley during their sessions usually didn't bring anything out… every now and then that determined bitch would bring up something that meant more to him than she would ever understand. She would never understand any of it… and he had no plans to allow her to understand any feelings of love… ever.
But now he couldn't help but run Harley over and over in his mind.
Her high pitched voice and her annoying Brooklyn accent. The way she'd jump into his arms every chance she got. If he slapped her she'd always come back. If he was in pain she'd blow up half of Gotham just to comfort him and hold his head in her arms. And how he needed that right now... to be caressed... to be reminded that someone in the world actually cared for him.
She was the only person who understood the great joke of the world... and now he was just alone in the world. Not that he really minded... he didn't mind it at all... he had been alone before and he can be alone again.
But the truth was he was like the men in The Allegory of the Cave... he had seen the sun and his eyes will never adjust to the shadows of his cave again. He will never be able to get her laughter out of his head.
Damn it all... he wanted her back.
He curled up at the thought... creating a hole in his chest again. He wanted something that was impossible to get. It should be impossible for him to even think about, but here he was determined to shatter his heart again just by thinking about her touch.
He couldn't help but look down at his fire scarred hand. The touch he tried to erase remained on his hand despite his attempts to eradicate it. Her delicate little fingers sliding over his hand... but it was only a ghost of a touch.
He felt a tear on his cheek as he remembered how easy it had been to get her to touch him before.
"Harley..." he breathed quietly.
If he had wanted some human contact she was always there. If he wanted someone to take his frustration out on she was right there. If he wanted to celebrate with someone she would entertain him. He could make her laugh, dance, kiss, yell, scream, moan, fight, kill, stab, work, run, jump, cry, squeal, groan, frown, smile, pout, bite, scratch, kick, sabotage, scheme... She was the type of girl who could do it all! And she would only do it all for him.
And she made him happy sometimes... simply happy when he allowed it. Nothing else made him as happy as she did. Sure a run in with Bats made his day but the more he thought about it, having Harley in his life had made his life...
And now she was gone. And a fucking cunt of a doctor had made him cry over it.
He angrily wiped his tear away from his face.
The Joker wasn't a CRY BABY! How dare he... how dare she! Thinking she could break him. This was HER FAULT! It was HER FAULT he was tearing up. It wasn't Harley's death... Harley's death didn't matter. He knew that. Harley Quinn didn't matter. Hell. Harley Quinn didn't even EXIST anymore.
But a certain DOCTOR DID! But not for long... oh no. Not for long.
He was going to kill her… he was going to tear her down to size then tear her apart. But that wasn't going to be enough… no. But for now… this was all he wanted.
He chuckled softly. She thought she was better than Harley? Well... Harley lasted seven years... this doctor wouldn't even last 7 WEEKS.
"Bullshit," the senior doctor remarked.
"It's true," I replied as I buttoned my shirt back up. I was due for another trip to refresh my permission slip and I had just refreshed it. Ugh what a bother. At least now he wouldn't even listen to Joan. No permission slip meant no legal sex for his impotent ass.
"I don't believe it. The Joker is a textbook sociopath-"
"He just has a dissociative personality. A trauma years ago caused him to split personalities. He's the unfeeling sociopathic Joker who we all hate and a tortured man who's in too much pain to re-enter the world… yet."
He smirked. "I remember when Harleen bragged about curing the Joker. Look what happened to her."
I rolled my eyes. "Harleen Quinzel was an amateur and weak minded. Falling in love with the clown while he was still a sociopath..." I turned around to fix my hair, trying to cover the blush that was spreading across my face. I had almost fallen for that ticket to fame of a clown as well… but I would never admit it to anyone else. I was too good for that… to good for him. All he was was my trampoline to fame. A very good trampoline, but a trampoline all the same. I'd be done with him in a few agonizing months.
"I mean I've even been using Harleen as a way to get into his head. A pawn. That's all she's been good at. Being a pawn... even after death."
"How do you know you're not just a pawn?" he questioned.
"You're the pawn here," I muttered under my breath.
I huffed and pulled my pants back on. It's not like I wanted the sociopathic love of the clown... no matter how rare it was. Not having that love definitely didn't make me less than that dumby... no way.
There was a sudden knock on the door that made us both jump. Dammit... I did NOT need this right now. We both hurried to compose ourselves and sat at his desk.
"Come in," the senior called out.
A foot slowly stepped out from behind the door and I felt my heart race with fear. No... No... there was no way...
The door slammed open. "GOOD EVENING FOLKS!" And there stood the Joker in all his dark glory, smiling his signature smile in his full attire.
"Joker..." I breathed in a panic as my heart began to race. How had he gotten his stuff back? WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE? HOW DID HE GET OUT OF HIS CELL? WHY WAS HE HERE? Oh god why... why would he be here?
He faked a concerned face. "Oh I'm sorry... I hope I'm not intruding on anything pertaining to business." He chuckled darkly. "So… this is how such an amateur doctor has been able to interview me. Didn't your mother tell you not to put things in your mouth when you don't know where they've been, mister?" he teased as he wagged a finger at the senior doctor who was frozen in fear.
The Joker laughed again and closed the door behind him as he shook his head. "Really you two... I could hear you from all the way down the hall..."
Fuck, what had he heard? I needed to take control of the situation... he was probably just lost right now... he shouldn't be hard to manipulate. "Now c'mon Mr. J it's not what it seems..."
"Oh? Then explain it to me doctor... because I'm sooo confused. I thought you were mine," he mocked before regaining his cruel expression with a chuckle.
What happened? I had cracked him during our session. He should be in his cell struggling with his new found emotions of pain and remorse, waiting for me to come back and help him figure out how to express them… no. He knew how to express them. He found his own way of coping.
I had played myself right into his hands... maybe if I…
"Now, Mistah J-" I tried to reason, imitating Harley Quinn's voice. Maybe if I seemed more like the clown he would be too dumbstruck to do anything and I could get out.
But instead of melting at the sound of her voice he immediately lunged at me with a furious expression, a switchblade pressed against my neck. How had he gotten a switchblade in a place like this?
"DON'T YOU DARE PUT YOURSELF IN HER PLACE! YOU ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO HER! DO YOU HEAR ME! NOTHING! You're not even good enough to say her name… YOU CAN'T EVEN SAY MY NAME RIGHT!" He shook us both with his words, forcing some strands of hair into his face, making him look all the more menacing. He had a grip on reality… he knew what was what and what he wanted now… and I had a good idea of what that was. I have given his sadistic mind a direct link to the pain and anguish he kept away from the world.
Oh god... what had I released?
The senior doctor took this chance to run for the door, but it was futile. The Joker was too fast with his knife. He threw it and it landed right in the man's neck, and we watched as he sputtered and fell to his knees.
I was in shock... watching a man die right in front of my eyes... but the Joker was simply enjoying the sight of blood flowing out of the wound and onto the old carpeting.
"Now," he said coldly as he grabbed my neck, making me shiver in fear, "we're gonna practice saying my name ok?" I nodded frantically. "Ok. So repeat after me... Mistah J!" he mimicked in an excited high pitched voice.
"Mi-mi..." I tried to swallow my fear. "Mistah J..." I squeaked in a less excited tone.
"No!" he bellowed and slapped me hard across the face and pulled me back up by my hair. It hurt... it hurt... I had never been slapped before... and it hurt. The tears I had been forcing back spilled over my cheeks and I began to sob. "Did that hurt?"
I didn't look at him, trying to hide my shame... damn him... Damn him...
"I SAID," he forced me to look at him, "did, it, hurt?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes," I whispered.
"Good… then maybe we can get some better results. Now… listen carefully," he cooed. Damn him. "Mistah J!"
"Mis…" I tried to adjust my voice again. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Mistaah Jay!" Crap… my voice broke.
"NO!" he bellowed and punched my cheek, hard. I cried out and he let me fall to the floor this time. I thought I could get up and crawl away but he had my face in his hands within the second I hit the floor.
"Wanna try it again?" he asked with a fake politeness.
"No… I can't say it… and it hurts…" I choked out. It did… this hurt. I couldn't do the voice… I couldn't act like his Harley Quinn. And I would pay for that lack of skill… I didn't have any other cards now… fuck. Where did this go wrong?
He faked a sympathetic face. "Aw I'm sorry. But you see..." he licked his lips, "Harley did that every day. I slapped her, I beat her down, I scarred her, I burned her and I BROKE her. And you know what she did? Every, single, time?" I simply stared at him, barely able to comprehend his words. Was he saying I was weak? "She bounced right back. I could slap her and make her cry one minute, and then she could turn around with a strong face and push my men around. Can you win a one-on-one with batman? Can you get beaten close to death and smile at the man after?"
He chuckled at my mental pain. "No Joker I can't do that. But do you wanna know something? No one else CAN. You are going to be alone for a long, long, long time. You fucking piece of shit" And with that I spat in his face. I was tired of this… I was tired of him belittling me. I was too good for this… too good to let him do this to me.
He backhanded me hard, knocking me to the floor; then laughed as he wiped my spit off with his free hand. "Well, look who decided to let her narcissistic colors show... I guess if they let Crane work in here they would let another narcissist in here too... but this one is definitely the amateur, weak-minded, psychologist. A little pawn to help me get out of here… I've decided…" he licked his lips again, "that I want to include as many people as I can into this little game I have planned. And you, my little pawn, are going to be my first player."
He picked up a pen and pressed against my neck.
"Now, this is the part where you are supposed to scream."
The Joker walked away with a huge grin on his face as the screaming started... one was feral and crazy while the other was scared and in pain. Dr. Franklin would finally get a one-on-one session with her young patient... with they work Dr. Franklin has been doing on her they both deserved some… girl talk.
The guards heard it right away, but the Joker had Franklin's keys in one hand and his switchblade in the other. He felt so giddy while cutting them all down… he felt like Wolverine. And oh how he missed the feeling of slicing through skin. The thought that men were bleeding to their deaths behind him while others did their best to avoid him finally allowed his mind to relax into a familiar pattern. Murder. A murderous rampage was all he needed to feel better.
He didn't need to hurt himself. He needed to hurt others. That's what he was good at. And that's what he truly loved. Every time he heard the gurgled or pained screams of his victims, his thoughts were proven. He felt his mind feel less stressed despite being egged on.
To calm himself, he slid his hand into his coat pocket and touched a small item in his pocket. A little toy he had been hiding for a few years now. A little Plan C just in case things got too messy in Arkham… and it wasn't that things were too messy. He just had no use for this place anymore.
He just wanted to come back and start again… try to restart his mind to a time before Harley Quinn. To a time when he could laugh and kill and nothing would matter. There was no reason, no incentive to stop, and a mile of room for error when it came to his crimes. But then someone actually began to matter and he actually had to think before he jumped. Then she was gone and his crimes began to have a reason. Even worse, his crimes no longer got rid of the sickening feeling of remorse that were constantly trying to infect him.
He came back and pretended it had never happened. It worked for a while too. With the horrid repetition of life in Arkham Asylum it was easy to pretend that everything between their meeting and her death had never happened.
Unfortunately things didn't work out that way. They gave him a doctor who wanted to get in touch with his more sensitive side and he had. He had given them what they wanted... but like everything else he did –whether it worked out the way they planned or not –there was a price.
They took his Harley, so he killed off a mob gang, their families, and their associates.
Now they took away his "coping method" so now they were going to have to pay full price for his Harley Quinn. And a mere mob gang, their worthless families, and their meaningless associates and their pitiful families did not come anywhere close to paying off the debt.
The remaining bodies in Arkham didn't even make a dent in the payment owed to him for his heart.
"Speaking of Arkham," the Joker said to no one in particular. He was already far from Arkham Asylum.
His body had been working without his mind. Killing truly was a natural thing for him.
And he was about to do it again. He knew how Arkham was set up. He knew where the majority of the "normal" people were. He knew where they were brig evacuated. He knew where Harley's friends would be. Most would still be in their cells under heavy guard. Her doctor friends would be evacuating whoever they could from the same building.
He had decided to disarm those bombs.
He pulled out the detonator and began to laugh as he held it out for no one to behold. "This is for you baby," he growled.
He pressed the big red button.
Just as he knew it would, most of Arkham began to explode with little bombs planted in almost every building. He estimated about 380 dead.
He smirked and began to walk away, carelessly throwing the detonator behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered away. He smiled softly as he felt a smooth, bent piece of paper in his pocket. Right where he left it.
The feel of the paper, the feel of a wind from an explosion, the sound of sirens, and the smell of smoke. It gave him a bit of joy... but this joy was just more poison in his heart and his mind couldn't take much more of it.
A/N: So essentially, the idea is that Dr. Franklin did succeed in connecting the Joker's emotional mind and his sociopathic/sadistic mind but without the results that she wanted. Now his crime is going to have a purpose rather than just being what he wants. And from his repetition of the word "debt" it should give you a hint.
Also, for those of you who have no idea what Allegory of the Cave is, it's a story about men who lived in a cave forever and all they had for light was a fire. But their eyes were adapted and they could identify what things were just from that light or the shadows on the cave walls. One day, a few of them leave the cave and see the sun. When they go back in, they can't see anymore. Their eyes had seen a brighter light so they could never again accept the darkness. Their misery after that though does not compare to the Joker's pain though.
But it seems we are nearing the end my cherished followers... And so, hopefully I will have the last few chapters done by the beginning of May. How many of you will stay to see the end of the rabbit hole?
