© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Twenty Five-Sargent Parker

~Arabella Jones~

With my head resting on the ground, and my legs balancing my body so that I didn't fall in on myself, I had found myself in a similar position that reminded me dearly of home, of the Joker's warehouse. My black clothing had creased after a restless day and an even more restless night. I'd scribbled over dozens of sheets of paper in an attempt to decrease my boredom, but it had simply angered me even more. My impatience had grown, and I was finding myself with the urge to lash out at anyone who merely glanced at me.

I spun myself over, so that I rested on my stomach, before crawling down onto the floor. "Hey, when's the doc supposed to arrive?" I called out to the group of guards which stood at my cell door while I crossed my legs. The younger one, who reminded me of one of the Joker's goons, turned to face me, a naturally pleasant expression on his face. "Should be here soon, half an hour tops." Another guard dug his elbow into his side, causing a choke to escape from the kind man's mouth. His face reddened slightly.

"She's a criminal; you don't tell her things like that." The older, meaner guard barked like a dog.

"She is also a woman, look at her. She is a mess; the least she deserves is to know when some doctor is arriving." The look-a-like goon bit back, standing with a straighter posture.

I decided then, for definite, that the kind guard was my favourite guard. It proved that not all guards, or men, had to be assholes to women who had strayed onto the...darker side. I made my way to the wall of the cell where all of the guards stood. Their uniform was purely black, and they were armed with guns and knives and a couple stun-guns. They had ear pieces in their ears, and their hair was cropped short around their head. Except for different faces and body builds, they all looked alike.

I tapped gently on the glass, causing each guard to turn around and face me. I could see each of their name badges, which is exactly what I had intended. I focused my gaze on the kind guard's one, reading his name out loud. "Sargent Parker." It felt good to put a name to the pleasant man. Parker simply nodded his head before turning back around, each guard following his movement afterwards.

Spinning back around, I made my way over to the table and took a seat. I didn't know what I was going to draw on the plain paper, but it reminded me of the Joker. Images flashed through my mind, of me watching as the Joker sketched a gun with detail onto the paper. The lines were jagged and messy, but it was still amazing. I took a softer route; each flick of the pencil was soft and curved. There was detail; each stroke was precise and accurate. I wasn't an artist, I could barely draw a simple flower, but when it came to drawing eyes, it was like a talent.

Every eyelash was to an accurate size, the shape of the pupil, the iris and the outline of the eye in general was neat and precise. I was half way through shading in the iris when the glass door slid open. Glancing up, I caught Doctor Morgan slide into the chair opposite me. "That's a beautiful drawing you have there." He commented, eyeing my artwork.

"It's the Joker's eyes; you see the rough edges around the eye? And the smaller scars nearer the eyebrow?" I cracked my neck, dropping the pencil into the table. "It's his."

"Well then, that fits nicely with today's topic. Tell me, what attracts you to the Joker?"

I wasn't expecting a question like that to slip from Doctor Morgan's mouth. So I was momentarily stunned, before I composed myself and answered with detail, the detail I knew he didn't want deep down. "Everything about him attracts me. And it's more than the senses. His scent, his sound, his taste, his touch and his looks, yes they do attract me dearly, they pull me in like an irresistible magnet, but it's more. It's everything he does, the way his body moves when he kills or injures someone. The way his lips twist when he grins or laughs. And then there are the softer times, the things that only I see. When he's soft and caring, gentle and kind. You see, doc, this is how I know he loves me, because I've witnessed how he can be, the kind of man only I can bring it out of him."

I stopped speaking, watching Doctor Morgan with a sarcastic smirk as he scrawled on the pad in front of him. "Well, thank you Miss Jones." He said at last, dropping the pen onto the table. "With these notes, I believe we can really begin to make some progress." Without saying another word, without a hint of warning or anything that could allow me to expect him to do this, he got up and walked out. Doctor Morgan's coat swayed behind him, flying about in the gusts that he left behind him from the speed of which he moved.

There was something untrustworthy about Doctor Morgan. Maybe it was natural to feel a certain hate towards my psychiatrist, he was trying to change the way I thought and felt after all. But some part of me couldn't help but feel like it was more, like there was really something wrong with him. Not that I could complain, after all, there was something wrong we me. Although, 'wrong' wasn't the right word, 'wrong' made it sound like a bad thing, when really it just made me...funnier and more...unique. Original. I wasn't trapped in my mind; I wasn't a cog in a machine. I'm free; I am in fact a loose cog, not attached to the beast.

When it came to Doctor Morgan, it wasn't about being unique and fun and free, there was anger and craziness about him. It looked like he wanted to gouge out my eyeballs, and eat them right before me, and then start to giggle about my screams. If you know what I mean? I had to cooperate with him in our therapy sessions, otherwise suspicion would rise and he'd know that I was on to his insanity. His psychotic mind. Doctor Morgan may have stood a chance at being even crazier than the Joker, if he put his heart into it and stopped trying to hide it. I hid it, and then I met the Joker, and now I'm free. Maybe we just needed to find someone for him, someone to unleash the monster within.

Maybe, just maybe, I could be that person. Like the Joker was for me, maybe I could show Doctor Morgan what it was like to be free, to be who you really are and not some caged...thing. There is insanity within all of us, it's just that sometimes our insanity likes to play hide and seek. And most of the time, people don't seek. They let it hide. I sought mine out, well maybe it was more like the Joker sought mine out for me. Like I was going to do for Doctor Morgan, he'd be grateful for me then.

Then again, his insanity was different to mine and the Joker's. Ours was for humour, to make people laugh and have fun. However, Doctor Morgan's insanity looked pure evil, truly psychotic. Maybe I couldn't trust to let the monster out of the den in this case, maybe it would be better for me to...leave it alone? It wasn't exactly my issue anyway. Doctor Morgan's mind was his mind, and it was none of my business to get involved. I should focus on getting out of the cell; because-God-I needed to see my Joker. Every atom within me craved him, wanted him, and needed him. Even to just see him, anything would be good. However, there was no way they were going to let me see him. No way would they allow me out of the cell.

Would they?

I got up from laying in get, and made my way over to the glass wall. I tapped gently, three times, making sure to catch the attention of Parker. "Hello, Parker."

"Hello, Miss Jones." He replied, hands still holding the gun, but the gun wasn't pointed at me, wasn't waiting for me to attack.

"Can I-I mean...look I want to see the Joker. Am I allowed to see the Joker?" I made my voice soft and sweet, putting raw need into every word. "Please, please Parker, please." I was on the verge of begging now. And the plea wasn't all fake, for I really did crave the Joker.

Sargent Parker took a deep breath, before pressing his thumb to a small keypad thing which sat on the wall of my cell. I saw sweat trickle down his forehead and onto his brow. It was then I knew that he wasn't allowed to do this, it was then I knew that I'd have to behave. The door slid open, allowing me to escape. When I took a step closer to the exit, I heard a gun load. Turning my head to face Parker, I saw the gun pointed right at me. "My apologies, Miss Jones, but I cannot take any chances." I nodded my head for reply, taking the final, crucial, step out of the cell.

My bare feet hit cold ground, sending ice up my legs. I tucked hair that had escaped the ponytail behind my ears, before moving down the hall, towards the Joker's cell. The rubber soles of Parker's boots squeaked on the hard floor behind me, and I could feel the gun burn a hole into the back of my head. Right where it was pointed. I couldn't help but fiddle nervously with my fingers, wondering what condition the Joker would be in. Were they torturing him? Was he also trying to escape?

I rounded the last corner, knowing exactly where they'd put him. He was precisely where he was before, in the same cell, the cell that I'd travelled to many times while working at Arkham. Nerves rippled through me, making my heart rate increase and my breathing to become shallower and faster. I lifted my eyes from the ground as I faced the cell fully, and caught the Joker staring right back at me. He too had been forced into black clothing, fabric trousers and a tight black shirt. He was barefoot as well, and his grease paint make up was wearing off. Patches of skin showed, and it looked like he'd been tearing away at his face.

Before either of us could move, several guns clicked and loaded, and someone screamed at me not to move. I glanced around and watched as several guards trained their guns on me. I froze cold, body rigid. "It's okay." Parker called out, his voice deepening a couple of octaves. He sounded professional, as if he'd shoot anyone that tried to hurt me. "I've allowed her to visit the Joker, as a onetime thing. I'm watching her." To prove his point, I heard his gun click and his footsteps come closer to where I was stood like a statute. "You can move now." He told me, in a softer tone.

I watched, completely awestruck, as the Joker scrambled up from the table and charged for the glass wall, obviously having heard Parker's words. His eyes were wide, and it looked as if he'd just been given an adrenaline rush, for his body shook and trembled. I sprinted forward as well, hating that some stupid glass was going to separate us. Both of our bodies hit the glass; we were so close and yet, it wasn't close enough. I placed my hand on the wall, watching as the Joker mirrored my actions. "Are they hurting you?" I asked softly, gazing into his dark eyes. He shook his head roughly, violently, breathing hard.

"Are...are they hurting you?"

"No, they're just making me see some psychiatrist."

"Doctor Morgan?" When I nodded my head for reply, the Joker continued. "Me too. He speaks about you a lot. Always asking why I love you, and if I really do." I made a noise that confirmed that Doctor Morgan had been doing the same to me.

I dropped my hand from the glass, turning to see Parker. He knew what I was going to ask, I could see it in his soft eyes. "Parker, can I go in?" I looked back at the Joker, before returning my steady gaze on the guard. He hesitated, taking a while to answer as if he didn't already know what he was going to say. A soft smile played on his lips, and he knew exactly what I was up to.

"Let her in."

He knew. He knew all too well that I was going to try to escape with the Joker. So why was he helping me? Helping us? I sat next to the Joker on his bed, which was identical to mine. My head rested on his shoulder, and I found myself sighing as I was wrapped in his warmth. "I missed you." I hummed lowly, aware of the guards that watched us.

"I missed you too, doll." He replied in a hushed voice, obviously also aware.

I laced my fingers with the clown's, trying hard to stay calm. "I want to get out of here. And I have a plan. I think Parker knows about it as well. I think he'll help us." As soon as I finished my sentence, I heard Sargent Parker call out loudly to all of the guards.

"Right, that's it. I can take care of these two myself; I want all of you out."

"What do you mean, you want us out? These are highly dangerous criminals!" One of the guards protested, gun still aimed right at us. Parker raised his voice to a yell.

"These criminals are two, love sick freaks! One of which is a man who dresses up as a clown and the other is a woman who looks like she hasn't slept for weeks! I can take care of them myself! Now move!" Each guard began to shuffle up or down hallways, murmuring 'yes Sargent' as they passed Parker.

When all guards where gone and out of ear shot, Parker opened the cell with his thumbprint. "No offence, but I had to make them go." He chuckled as the door slid open. The Joker wore an expression of confusion and suspicion. I didn't blame him.

"I didn't know you had so much ... authority." I said, making my way out of the cell with the Joker following closely behind.

"I'm one of the most important guards in Arkham. That's why they listened to me...eventually." I nodded my head, swallowing hard.

When both the Joker and I were out of the cell, the glass door slid shut. "I don't understand, Parker."

"Look, those men see criminals who should be put down like dogs. I see two people in love, two people with originality. I hate this job, but it pays well." He loaded his gun, passing it over to the Joker. He continued to talk while handing me a shot gun and a blade. "You shouldn't be in here. So I'm helping you get out. I'll probably lose my job for doing this, so get it right."

We'd devised a plan within five minutes. I'd have to shoot Parker, make it look like we'd attacked him, took his weapons and made a break for it. After that, we'd take a back exit, where no one ever goes. We'd travel in the alley ways until we got back to the warehouse. "Don't shoot anywhere that will kill me. Go for an arm or a leg, I don't exactly want to die just yet." I loaded the shot gun and left my finger hovering over the trigger.

"Thank you, Parker. And for you sake, I hope we all make it out of here alive."

I aimed for the leg, pulling the trigger and watching as Parker collapsed to the ground. He grunted in pain, but waved his hands at us, telling us to go. With one last glance at each other, we both sprinted down the halls. There was no way I was going back to that cell.