Chapter 21:
It had been a month. A whole month since she'd seen her puddin'. There'd been no news of his having broken out, not since that time before, no news of him even attempting it, and she was beginning to grow worried.
At least if he'd tried, whether he succeeded or not, at least then she would know he was alright. That everything with him was okay.
They kept her away from him, here at Arkham. There were strict rules concerning their interaction, namely, they weren't allowed interaction, at all.
And so she was shocked, to say the least, when the orderlies shoved her through the doors of the asylum rec. room and she saw him, across the space, seated by himself at a table, a secluded corner. His hands were cuffed together, she could see, and she assumed his ankles must also be, probably linked to the legs of the chair he was seated in.
He had his head down, and it looked like from here that he was working on something, though she couldn't tell what.
Her eyes scanned the rest of the room quickly, taking in the other patients, mulling about. No one dared approach him, but they all were watching him, eyeing him intently, and suddenly she felt nervous.
What the hell were they up to? Had it been some kind of mistake?
As far as she knew, Mister J wasn't allowed in this place, or in the cafeteria. As far as she knew, he wasn't allowed interaction with the other inmates at all, period.
Only on occasion had they allowed him out of his cell, when he'd displayed unusually good behavior, therapy sessions and showers not withstanding. It was state ordered, that if a patient hadn't been involved in any incidents of violence or unruly conduct for a period of a month, they had to be rewarded, a means of trying to encourage that good behavior.
But it was rare Mister J ever complied with any of their rules, not unless he was doing so for a specific reason, if it in some way furthered or served some plan of his.
So why was he here? And why had they brought her when he was?
Her mind fought hard to come up with an explanation.
Was it some kind of a trap? Were they trying to set them up somehow?
But that didn't make any sense.
Set them up for what?
Her eyes flitted back to him, noting he still sat with his eyes cast towards the table, his hands working away at something she couldn't discern. It didn't look at though he'd yet noticed her.
Her mind raced with the memory of what Batman had said to her, and with what those bastard orderlies had said. And suddenly she felt the incredible urge to go over and confront him, to ask him if it was true. If he… if he was fooling around on her. Seeing that… that woman.
She shook her head, barely able to stand the thought of it.
"W-what's he doin' here?" She dared ask the men behind her.
One of them shrugged.
"Clown's been actin' weird." He answered. "Losin' it in his cell, havin' like, panic attacks or somethin', talkin' somethin' about not belonging here. His doc said maybe it was time for him to get some rec. activity. He ain't had any in 'bout six months, not including his little escapes, so… You gotta ask him."
Harley said nothing, her expression growing confused.
Panic attacks?
None of this was making any sense. Mister J was prone to mood swings, sure, and certainly, if he'd been telling people he didn't belong here, that was true also. But why that would prompt them to let him out and around other patients, she couldn't figure.
She glanced behind her then and noticed the orderlies had left her on her own, gone off to sit at the table where they smoked and played cards during the hour.
She looked back nervously to Mister J, her mind frantic with whether she should go over to him or not.
If she did, it was likely they were going to stop her, maybe even take her out of here. But if she didn't, she had no idea when she next would get to see him…
She inhaled deeply, letting it go slow.
Screw it, she thought. What the hell did she have to lose?
And so she began towards him, her stomach clenching in anticipation of the voice, calling out for her to stop.
But it never came, and suddenly she was standing right in front of him, and she could see now what he was working on.
A puzzle. One of a field, and a tree. It was a puzzle she'd tried her hand at many times, one she'd never been able to get very far with, and other patients the same. But she could see he'd already completed more then three quarters of it.
That didn't surprise her. Mister J was good at puzzles. He always finished them so fast. They were something he would do often, when he wasn't making plans or creating some new, chemical concoction, or out fighting the Bat.
She remembered one time when she'd sat down next to him and asked timidly if she could help, and her subsequent shock when he'd nodded and proceeded to sit back and watch as she worked away at it, occasionally helping when she would become stuck, quickly finding and handing her the correct piece.
She remembered too how she'd asked him after why he liked doing puzzles so much and how he'd gotten really angry, slapped her hard across the face before storming off in to the city, disappearing for the rest of the night.
She knew better then to ask him again.
She swallowed.
He didn't seem to notice her, standing there. But she also knew that didn't mean he didn't realize she was. He was always aware when she was. He was just rare to acknowledge it.
She breathed out slowly, gaining her courage.
She was determined to find out the truth. And this was her chance. She needed to hear it from his own lips. She needed to know he wasn't cheating on her.
"Mistah J." She began boldly.
And surprise took her when he flinched noticeably, shrinking back in his seat, almost… almost curling in on himself.
He didn't say anything, didn't look up at her. Just sat there, silent, his hands ceasing their work on the puzzle, his head turning down and to the side.
Harley's brow furrowed as she regarded him.
If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked almost afraid.
"Mistah J, I need to talk to you." She went on when he continued to be silent.
And she watched as he shook his head, his arms wrapping tighter.
"Please… p-please, just… just l-leave me alone." He said, his voice hushed, so quiet she almost didn't hear.
And her brow furrowed further.
Please? She'd never heard Mister J say please before. She'd never heard him use that word.
He was playing games with her. Messing around.
But this was serious, damn it!
She felt a sudden shot of anger.
"Mistah J, I really need to talk to you!" She snapped, and again he flinched, again shaking his head, curling in further on himself.
She could see his breathing grow quickly rapid, almost erratic, and she thought she could see him trembling, if only slightly.
What the hell was going on? What was this?
She glanced back towards the orderlies, trying to determine if this was some sort of elaborate prank. If she was being played. But they weren't even looking her way, their attention focused on their card game.
She looked back to the Joker, and still he looked away.
"Mistah J, what the heck is going on here?" She asked, and again he shook his head.
"Pl-please… Oh God, please, do-don't… just let me alone. Please, just let me alone."
Something wasn't right here. Something was wrong. He didn't sound like himself. Looking at him, she realized he didn't even really look like himself. His expression was all wrong. And as she studied him closer, it dawned on her suddenly, from where she'd seen that expression before… in that motel bathroom that one night, when he'd broken the mirror and cut himself, before he'd realized she was there.
He'd been talking to himself then. No. He'd been talking to someone… someone who wasn't there. A woman. He'd said her name, hadn't he?
But she couldn't remember.
She wondered if whatever had happened then was happening now.
She leaned forward, placing her hands on to the table, bending down to try and catch his eye.
"Mistah J…" she started. "where are you?"
He shook his head.
"I… I t-told you I d-don't… I don't k-know. Please, God I don't… I don't belong here. W-why… why won't you believe me?"
He sounded desperate to her, his voice quiet and shaking, strained. Almost like… almost like he was on the verge of tears.
"You don't know where you are?" She asked.
"I… I don't know. I don't know." He shook his head. "Please, don't… d-don't take me back yet. I… I'm not lying. I'm not…"
Harley was really starting to feel scared now, her uncertainty growing.
Oh God, what was wrong with him?
"Don't… don't you recognize me Mistah J? Don't you know who I am?" She asked, unable to keep the slight tremor from her voice.
He continued to keep his eyes cast away.
"Mistah J!" She started, feeling herself begin to panic. "Mistah J, look at me! Please look at me!"
He didn't move, and she leaned closer to him.
"Puddin', please!"
He glanced up, intending only briefly, not knowing who this new tormentor was, confused by the affectionate term.
And he froze, his eyes growing wide, his breath catching in his throat.
He blinked, and blinked again.
"J-Jeannie…?" He breathed, his voice a whisper, filled with confusion.
Jeannie? Where did she recognize that name fr… Wait. Wait. That was it. That was the name of the woman. The one he'd been talking to that night. The one who she'd seen crying! The one who those bastard orderlies had said…
Oh God, no. No. This couldn't be. He couldn't… she couldn't be his… She had to do something. Had to fix this. This woman… whoever she was. She was… she was ruining him. She was hurting him! She couldn't let this continue. Couldn't let this continue.
Her mind raced frantically for what to do. For some way to to…
"Jeannie?" She again heard him ask, and she looked at him hard, staring back at her with astonished eyes, as though he wasn't sure what it was he was looking at.
He… he thought she was her? But, why?
And then she remembered the way that woman looked, her… her hair, her frame… She realized how much she looked like her.
Suddenly it clicked in her mind. That was it. That was how she could fix this. How she could save him from… from this bitch!
She swallowed thickly, slowly pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting.
"Y… yes." She started hesitantly. "It's me…"
And a kind of desperate hope past over his features then.
"Y-you came… you came b-back? I… I t-thought you'd… you'd left… I thought…"
"We're married?" Harley cut him off, asking pointedly.
And he stopped, staring at her in puzzlement.
"… Y-yes." He started quietly. "O-of course we are. We… we've been married for… for three years…"
Rage erupted in Harley, jealous, blinding rage, and without thinking, she lurched forward, hand reared back, coming swiftly forward to slap him across the face.
His eyes at once grew huge with shock, and he shrank back, arms coming instinctively up to shield himself from the coming blow.
She saw it, saw the move to defend himself, only then realizing what she was doing, and somehow she stopped herself, halting her motion only inches from his face.
She lowered her hand, leaning back, regarding him carefully, several seconds having to pass without incident before he began, slowly, to lower his arms from his face.
And he looked at her with so much fear and confusion then.
She licked her lips, exhaling heavily.
Was he actually scared of her?
Everything was so confused now.
But, she supposed, perhaps this could work to her advantage.
"Listen, uh…" She began, clearing her throat.
She realized if she was going to get anywhere, if she was going to make what she had planned work, she was going to have to try and glean as much information from him as possible. About him… about this woman, and whatever… whatever it was they had together.
"What were we… uh, what were we talkin'… t-talking about last time we saw each other?" She tried to correct her accent, realizing it wasn't likely this woman sounded anything like her.
The Joker stared at her quizzically.
"It… it's hard for me to… to remember…" he began. "I th-thought… you said I couldn't… couldn't come w-with you. You said… s-said I had to s-s-stay here."
Harley nodded.
"Do you know why?" She asked.
And he shook his head.
"Y-you said I… I had to g-get better. B-but I… I d-don't feel sick. And this h-hospital doesn't… it isn't a r-regular hospital, I don't think… I don't think it is."
She shook her head.
"It isn't. It's a mental hospital."
His eyes went wide.
"A… a m-mental hospital?"
She nodded.
"B-but I'm… I'm not… I'm not c-crazy. I'm not!"
Harley's brow furrowed.
Her puddin' wasn't crazy. She knew that. It was the rest of these bozos who didn't seem to get it.
But now… now he sure was acting strange.
And she thought it must be this woman… Jeannie, who was making him lose his mind for real.
Well she would fix that.
"Listen, pu… honey… I need you… I need you to talk to me about… about our relationship."
"O-our relationship?" He looked truly confused.
Again she nodded.
"It… it's an evaluation test. To determine the state of your mental health. They wanted me to conduct it because… because they say you've been having a difficult time communicating with the doctors here."
He blinked.
"I… I haven't s-spoken with any… any d-doctors. T-they k-keep me in this… this r-room, they…"
"Baby, look…" Harley cut him short. "Just do what I tell you. Okay? If… if you do what I tell you, I can get you out of here."
A moment of silence past.
And then he swallowed thickly.
"… You… you'll t-take me h-home?"
She nodded.
God, this was bizarre. She couldn't believe how unsure he was of himself. He didn't even look like the same person. He was always so powerful looking, so confident. Now… now he looked like he might cry if she rose her voice at him. And the way he was talking… Mister J was always so well spoken, so sophisticated sounding to her. Now it seemed he could barely get the words out at all. He kept tripping over them, stammering and stuttering.
He seemed… weak to her.
And she didn't like it.
She hated it.
"I'll take you home. But you gotta… you have to answer my questions, and you have to do it honestly."
Again she saw him swallow, and he gave a weak nod.
"O-okay." He said. "Okay Jeannie."
And she had to fight not to frown at him mentioning that woman's name. It sounded… wrong coming from his mouth. Vile.
She exhaled slowly, pursing her lips.
"What's your name?"
"M-my n-name?" He asked, sounding lost.
"Yes. Your name."
He said nothing for a long moment.
"I-I d-don't unders-stand… Jeannie… y-you know m-my name…"
"Just… answer the question." She snapped.
He flinched visibly.
She frowned.
"It's necessary." She went on, trying to coax him more gently.
Several more seconds past in silence, his hands falling to his lap, his long fingers curling in to his palms.
"J-Jack…" He said softly. "N-Napier."
She absorbed the name, rolling it around in her head.
Jack Napier? It sounded so… so plain, so common. Hardly suitable for her puddin'.
She just nodded.
"And how long… how long have we been together, Jack?"
She could see his face lining with strain, with anxiety. He looked worried.
"J-Jeanne, I don't… I d-don't understand…"
"Jack!" She spit harshly, watching him shrink back at the rise in her voice.
She could use this. He was like a wilting flower, it seemed to her. Incredibly nervous, easily intimidated.
Mister J was unrecognizable at the moment.
But him being so timid, she realized, she could easily twist his perception.
Make him think she… make him think Jeannie hated him. Make him think she wanted to hurt him.
It almost seemed too easy, and she had to work to keep the smile from her lips.
"Don't argue!" She went on. "Answer the damn question!"
His entire face fell, his brow furrowing heavily, his mouth pulling in to a trembling frown. She could see immediately his eyes had grown glassy.
Tears?
She could hardly believe it.
"I-I-I-m s-sorry J-Jeannie…" he began, his voice shaking noticeably now. "I-I'm s-sorry. Please… p-please don't be… d-don't be m-mad at me…"
"Well you're making me mad!" She hissed, and again he flinched, his eyes lowering to his lap.
"I… I'm sorry." He whispered, so softly she almost didn't hear.
She breathed out.
This was going to take some getting used to.
If she talked to him like this in any other circumstance, he would have backhanded her across the mouth.
Now he was cowering in his seat, unable to hold her gaze.
"Just answer the question." She continued. "How long have we been together?"
"We… we've k-known each other since… s-since we were c-children. D-don't you remember Jeannie?" He glanced briefly up at her. "We… we met in m-middle school…"
He was so confused.
Jeannie had never spoken to him like this before.
He didn't know what he'd done. Didn't know why she was so angry.
Oh God, he wished he could fix it, whatever it was.
He couldn't bear Jeannie being mad at him. He couldn't.
"Is that when we started… dating Jack?" Harley was barely able to get the words past her lips.
He shook his head.
"N-no. We… we s-started in hi-high school."
"And what were we before that? Just friends?" She pushed.
"Y-you…" He started quietly, his head bowing lower. "You were my… m-my only friend."
Harley's mouth twisted to the side.
Now she was getting somewhere.
"You're only friend?" She asked.
He didn't answer, and she could again see his breath quicken.
"Why was that Jack? Why didn't you have any other friends?"
Several more seconds past in silence.
"Answer me Jack. Why didn't you have other friends?"
"… P-please Jeannie, I… I c-can't…"
"Answer me Jack, or I'm leaving right now."
His eyes came up, filled with panic and dismay.
"N-no!" He started. "No, pa-please, d-don't. Do-don't go…"
"Then answer me Jack. Why didn't you have any friends?"
Again his eyes lowered, his hands beginning to twist together.
"I…" he started, his voice now strained. "They… t-they didn't l-like me. They… they t-thought I w-was… was s-strange."
"Who?" Harley asked. "The other kids?"
He nodded.
"Why? Why'd they think you were strange?"
His head began to shake.
"I… I d-don't know." He stammered. "I don't know…"
"What about at home Jack?" Harley pushed.
She thought this would be harder. That she'd find it difficult doing this to him. But the way he was acting… she actually found herself disgusted. Annoyed by his meekness.
She had to do something. She couldn't let this happen to her puddin'.
She wouldn't.
And if it was at all possible, he seemed to curl further in to himself.
"H-home?" He questioned.
"Yeah. You know Jack, what about at home. Your mother? Father? What kind of relationship did you have with them?"
"J-Jeannie, please…" He nearly whispered. "P-please, stop… I don't… d-don't want to t-talk about this…"
"Well you better talk about it Jack, or I'm leaving." She spit, unsympathetic.
He shook his head.
"Please…" He said, and she could tell from the strain of his voice that he was on the verge of tears.
"Alright. Fine. Have it your way." She said, beginning to stand.
And almost immediately he looked up, distraught.
"No! P-please. Please d-don't!"
She looked at him sternly.
"Then answer me." She said. "Your mother and father, tell me about them."
He stared at her wide eyed, not understanding, feeling scared, confused.
Why was she asking him these questions? Why was she forcing him to talk about it? She… she knew about this. She knew.
But she seemed so angry, and he didn't want her to be. He didn't.
"M-my mother…" He swallowed, once more having to look down. "My mother d… she died when I was… when I w-was b-born." He struggled to get the words out, his eyes closing, memories filling his mind, his father screaming at him, telling him how it had been his fault, how he'd killed her, how if it hadn't been for him, she'd still be alive. And familiar self-hatred filled him as he felt the tears stinging at the back of his eyes.
"And what about your father?" Harley pushed.
And he couldn't stop the tears now, pushing past his lids, sliding down his cheeks. He turned his head, ashamed, not wanting her to see.
He knew if he spoke, his voice would break, would waver.
So he said nothing.
"What about your father Jack?" She said more firmly.
"Please Jeannie…" He begged, his voice now shaking heavily. "I can't… I can't…"
"You can't what Jack?" She asked in annoyance. "Talk about your father? Why not Jack?"
"Y… you know w-why?" He answered, hushed.
"It doesn't matter if I do Jack!" She hissed. "I want you to tell me. Why can't you talk about your father? What, he used to hit you? Smack you around?"
And a quiet sob tore from his throat.
"J-Jeannie… please… why are you… why are you d-doing this?"
"It's for your own good Jack." Harley was quick to respond. "Answer the question or I can't get you out of here."
"... I don't understand…" He whispered.
Harley said nothing, staring hard at him.
It was clear to her than there was some kind of strained relationship between him and his father, though she didn't know what. Very apparently, however, he wasn't keen on speaking of it.
Slowly, a smile spread across her lips.
That was it. That was how she could make him turn on her. Turn on Jeannie.
She sighed loudly.
"Listen… Jack." She began. "The real reason I'm asking you all this… I don't know how to put this gently. Jack… I… I don't think we should be together anymore."
Immediately he looked up, his eyes huge with shock, glassy with his falling tears.
"J-Jeannie?" He asked, confused. "W-what… w-what are you t-talking about?"
He couldn't have heard her right. He couldn't have. Please, God, he couldn't have!
"Jack, I'm just going to be honest with you. Your father and I, we were having an affair."
The horror across his face then was immense, and she knew she'd said the right thing.
"W-what?" He stumbled, barely audible.
"An affair Jack." She answered, her voice steady. "Your father and I, we were having an affair."
He blinked.
"A… an af-fair?" His tears fell faster, thicker.
She nodded.
"That's right. We were sleeping together Jack. I just… wasn't ever really satisfied… with you."
He stared at her, his eyes filled with disbelief, and crushing pain.
His head shook.
"P-please… Jeannie…" His voice shook near uncontrollably now, strained and filled with terror. "P-please, dd-don't s-say tt-that… d-don't…"
She shrugged.
"What do you want me to say Jack? It's true. And we can't be together anymore… I've… I've decided to be with Batman now Jack. I need a real man. A strong man."
His entire body began to tremble then, to shake.
"J-Jeannie, nn-no… no p-p-please… p-please, don't… dd-don't s-s-say t-that… d-don't…"
This wasn't happening. Oh Jesus Christ, please no. This wasn't happening. She was… she was all he had! Why was she saying this? What had he done? What had he done to cause this? She… she didn't mean it. She didn't. She couldn't. Oh God please, please, please, she couldn't mean this!
"Jeannie pl-lease, p-please…" He began to sob, his voice hitching, his hands coming up, reaching out for her. "I-I-I'm s-sorry… I-I'm so-sorry. P-please… pl-lease, you do-don't... don't mean t-t-that…"
His fingers brushed against her hands and she pulled away, as if repulsed.
"Don't touch me!" She hissed. "We're through Jack. I'm sorry, but I'm with Batman now. You just weren't ever big enough of a man for me, I'm afraid."
"No Jeannie… N-nno, p-please…" He cried. "I-I-I'm s-sssorry, p-please. W-w-whatever I di-did… p-p-please, I'm s-sorry. Please Jeannie!"
"It's just you Jack…" Harley said coldly. "I just don't love you anymore."
And he crumbled. Devastated. Falling in to horrible, racking sobs, his body shuttering.
"Oh G-God… Oh God, n-no… no… p-please God… no, d-don't do thi-t-this… p-p-please… don't d-do this…"
Again he tried taking her hand, his face a mask of pain.
She slapped him away, hard, and he shrank back.
"Please…" He continued to beg, his voice growing frail, weak. "Y-y… you're all… a-all I h-h-have… you're all I have… I l-love you Jeannie. I love s-so m-much…"
"Well I don't love you Jack!" She spit. And her eyes roamed over his form, repulsion flashing. "You make me sick!"
He broke.
His hands coming up, grasping tightly along the sides of his head as he began to sink back, low in to his chair, his eyes closing, a terrible, keening whine rising up from his throat.
Oh God, he had nothing. Nothing anymore.
He was alone. Completely alone.
She hated him. She hated him, oh Jesus…
She must always have.
He was impossible to love.
Oh God, he knew he was. He'd always known it.
Why had he every believed otherwise?
No one could ever love anyone as horrible as he was, as useless, as worthless.
No one could ever love a freak like him.
A loud sob pushed past his lips as he began to sink further, leaning over as he felt the strength sap from his body, his despair consuming him whole.
He was empty, and there was nothing for him.
Harley watched him with a kind of cold detachment.
It was for his own good, she reasoned. This wasn't her puddin'. Whoever this was, he had to be driven out, and this was the way to do it, to get rid of his past completely.
Get rid of her.
"What the hell's going on here?" She heard the blunt voice of an orderly, barking over them, and she looked up, seeing several of them, standing there, watching the display.
"I'm done here." She said. "I'd like to leave now."
The orderly looked at her, then to the Joker, his brow furrowed in deep confusion and wonderment.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing, nor could the others.
"What the hell happened here?" He demanded, and Harley just shrugged.
"You should probably take him back to his cell." She said flatly. "He's clearly having an episode of some kind."
Still the orderly stared at her in puzzlement, the others transfixed on the Joker as he sobbed, his face now buried in his hands.
They had no idea what was happening, what they were even looking at.
The Joker, crying? Sobbing? Harley not seeming to care? This was straight out of the Twilight Zone.
Harley looked at them expectantly, her brows raised in expectancy.
"Well?" She started.
They seemed to snap to attention then, blinking.
The first man swallowed, turning towards the Joker.
"Let's… let's get him back to his cell." He said, moving forward.
The others stared a moment, not moving, astonished.
When the first orderly put his hands on the Joker and he shrank down, curling in on himself further, his sobs failing to cease, the others snapped in to action, helping to lift him from his chair, undoing his chained feet from the seats legs.
And the Joker complied without protest, allowing himself to be led from the room, practically needing to be carried, several times stumbling, nearly falling, would have if not for the hands holding him up.
All the while, Harley watched, a vague smile forming on her lips, thinking indeed she'd executed that to perfection.
Soon the bitch would be gone, and she'd have her puddin' back, all to herself.
/
Harley, you bitch! But I guess we knew she wasn't going to just relinquish her puddin' to Jeannie without a fight. Still, that was pretty mean of her, Jack being so vulnerable and confused, her taking advantage of that.
Harley and Jeannie look incredibly alike, both very petit, both blonde and good looking, both with blue eyes, etc… which is the reason for Jack mistaking Harley with his wife. I figure, for the purposes of this story, the Joker chose Harley because, subconsciously, she reminded him of Jeannie, a subconscious attempt to regain and hold on to a past he's long since forgotten. Of course, he wasn't at all aware of this, thus, subconscious.
Please remember to leave reviews guys. And thanks to everyone who's continued to stick with me through this story, and who's reviewed previously. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!