Note : Alright, new chapter, after over a year. I am so, very sorry. I know that most of you will have probably totally given up by now haha. But I will finish it! I promise. :)

Basic Disclaimer: I do not own the Joker, but I do own Sky. :)

New Disclaimer: The line near the end, is from the novel How To Kill A Rock Star by Tiffanie DeBartolo. I highly recommend it.

Enjoy!

To Heal Your Scars

Chapter Fourteen. Heart.

We stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. In reality it was probably only a few moments, but my mind was racing wildly and I couldn't decide what to do about the Joker being in my room, staring at me the way he was. I couldn't tell the emotions he was feeling, or if he was feeling any at all, but the fact that I couldn't tell what was going through his mind was driving me mad.

"What are you doing?" I finally spoke, though my voice was quieter than I had intended it to be.

"I'm standing in your doorway, Sky."

"I meant…" I paused. "I meant what are you doing, as in why are you standing in my doorway? Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're my gorgeous little doll," his words had sounded like he always had, but his voice – it was as quiet as mine.

"I'm not..." I paused again. What was I? "I'm just your toy," I said aloud.

"You…" Now the Joker was the one who had trouble finishing his sentence.

"What do you want, Joker?" I asked him, desperately needing an answer. I wanted to know what was going on. "That's what you call yourself. Is that what this is? This kindness, is it just a joke? I know that you've always wanted to drive me over the edge, and right now you're pretty damned close to succeeding." As I stared into his ink-black eyes, something changed in them and he said something in his lowest rough tone.

"What?" I asked him nervously.

"You're driving me over the edge, Sky." And with that, he strode over to me in three steps and grabbed me around my waist. I had no time to say anything before his lips pressed hungrily against mine. His tongue traced my bottom lip and made me shiver with a longing for him that I had kept hidden, and my hands found their way up his arms and around his neck. I intertwined my fingers into his blond hair and found that it was soft to the touch and I pulled it gently. In response, the Joker pulled me even closer to him and every inch of me was pressed against him.

My brain was telling me to stop. That it was wrong, that it was twisted, not normal, too strange. But I chose to ignore it. My brain was no longer in control of my body. It was in charge, and I didn't even care. I was tired of feeling lonely. I was tired of hoping for normalcy.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, revealing a smooth, muscular body. I realized that I was expecting it to be scarred like his face, but it perfectly normal, albeit rather better than normal. He soon began to pull at the clothes I had changed into before cleaning my room, and I let him. I wanted him to. I wanted him, and I once again despised myself, and him, for it. The mixture of love and hate that I felt for the both of us poured out of my like poison and elixir combined and it electrified me, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heart pounded against his and again I was agonizingly aware of the connection I felt to him. I wondered vaguely if he felt the same connection, or if I was still just a toy to him – his doll.

I heard a sound from him as he exhaled against my mouth, and it sounded distinctly like my name. I wished I knew his. Everything that was happening was like a dream, I wasn't entirely aware of the things occurring. I felt like I had been slipped a drug, and I wondered if he somehow had slipped me something – but I realized that there was no way he could have. Everything that was happening was of my own choice, and I was choosing to go through it without a fight, I was choosing to like it.

And then I froze. I liked it? How? How could I continue to kiss this sadistic lunatic, take off his clothes, let him take of my clothes? I felt like I had been hit hard, like common sense had taken a brick to my forehead. As soon as I had stopped, so did the Joker. He looked at me, the emotions I was feeling displayed on his face. Was it an act? Another attempt to drive me even further from my sanity? If so, it was working. I had begun to feel further and further from my mind every second.

But that's what love does to you... a voice in my head told me. I wanted to beat the voice to death.

"Wh –" the Joker began to say and then stopped. He was frozen like me, though his skin was hot pressed against mine. Every inch of my body craved him but my mind was pushing my emotions away, attempting with all of its might to win back its sanity and keep me away from him. As far away as possible, and it was winning. The Joker kept looking at me, the confusion growing more intense on his face until I thought he looked angry.

"Are you going to hit me?" I whispered, suddenly worried that it was an issue. And then he did look angry, and I realized that the expression that the confusion had turned into was not anger, but hurt. He got up abrubtly.

"Dammit Sky, is that what you want? I thought –" he broke off as stood up, glaring frighteningly murderously at the wall. He was still shirtless, everyone of his muscles tensed with rage. He turned to look at me, he towered above me and his voice softened. "Look what I've turned you into." I wondered what he meant by that, and horribly the thought occurred to me that he thought that I liked to be hit. That it had turned into a disgusting game for me. I was about to deny it, tell him that I wasn't like that, when he spoke again. "I've made you afraid."

He picked up his shirt and then, like he had done so many times before, he left.

***

I heard him go to his room and then quickly leave and go down the stairs. I crept out of my room as I saw him go outside and talk to someone outside.

"The two of you stay here. Make sure she doesn't leave. If you touch her, I will kill you. Very slowly, and very, very painfully." And with that I heard his footsteps fade away as he left. I was a bit worried about being left alone with two of his crazy minions, so I went back into my room and shut the door. Though I really knew that after being threatened they would not come near me.

I sat on my bed and tried to think. It was a bit useless. My mind was everywhere, though mostly on the Joker. On his body, his hands, his face, his mouth. His eyes. I don't know why he was so confusing to me. To any normal person, this issue would have been easy to solve: he is evil, therefore, you hate him. Only, I felt that I could see beneath his persona of evil. There was something underneath that I felt was longing to be discovered, to be loved. And I did love him. I was terrified of him, but I couldn't help but love him. He was wounded and maimed, and not just on the outside. Like me.

I tried to weigh pros against cons.

Okay, cons: evil sadistic, mass murderer, lack of remorse, unpredictable, violent, kidnapper, wanted criminal.

Pros: I felt a connection to him. Good body? Hooray for being shallow. Umm… okay, that was all I could think of at the moment, which was probably a bad sign. I remembered all the girls in high school who wanted to date a bad boy and made fun of me because the boys never liked me. Well, look how far I've come, I thought cynically, smirking to myself.

I decided, for once, to exit my room. The minions were by the front exit, and glanced up as I opened my door but otherwise ignored me and chatted quietly amongst themselves.

I padded quietly down the hallway and entered the Joker's empty room. I vaguely wondered where he had disappeared to. With a sinking heart I realized that it was probably to destroy some poor person's life. A stabbing feeling of hatred hit me – not for him, it was his nature, he was beyond repair – but for me. I was supposed to have self-control, a conscience, a heart. And my traitorous, mindless, desperate heart yearned for him. I was as much of a monster as he as, and I finally admitted that I was like him, simply because I loved him. He loved chaos and he was chaos, and therefore I loved chaos too.

It was strange to have had trust issues my entire life, and then getting hit with the realization that I loved the Joker after a mere few days. The Joker of all people. It was disgusting and pathetic, but I accepted it.

I ambled over to the far side of his bed and found a book lying there – the book I had been reading to him the other night when he fell asleep in my bed. One of the most romantic books I owned, and one of my favourites. I had even gone so far as to underline my favourite parts – something which I never did in any other book. But this one was special. All of my underlining was in pencil in case I ever wanted to erase it, but as I flipped through the pages a new colour caught my eye – purple.

"Eliza has the sky in her eyes and I've always wanted to touch the goddamn sky."
He had underlined it as I had, and placed brackets around the word "sky."

I numbly put the book down and I heard a voice behind me that made me jump.

"It's a good book," said the voice. I turned around and the Joker was leaning against the doorframe.