A/N: Wow, is all I have to say for myself. I can't believe it has been so long since I've uploaded! I will give the usual excuses…I'm busy…with school…and work. But I will also tell you the truth…which is that I haven't had inspiration for this story in a while (also I have been really busy). Anyways, here is another chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! Also, I love reading all of your reviews! I truly appreciate the constructive criticism as well as those of you saying you like this story. It really means a lot to me. =)

Chapter 7

Close Your Eyes

~I close my eyes. And this image floats beside me. A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. – Todd Anderson, Dead Poets Society~

The Joker was a murderer. As Olivia felt herself being gingerly lifted from the leather seat of a school bus, her mind flipping in and out of consciousness, she let that one thought permeate her entire being. The Joker killed people. In fact, she knew that he didn't just kill people. She knew deep down in her heart that he also tortured people, and that he liked it. She had heard the horror stories, both on the news and in the campus café while getting an iced vanilla latte before heading off to class. She had heard about how truly horrifying he was, and how he liked to bring people to their absolute point of desperation.

She had heard all of this of course, but what had it mattered to her then? While she was running around with Chase, studying for classes and practicing cello until her fingers bled, Olivia had felt like her simple college life had somehow been separate from all of the horrible things going on in the world. She had felt protected and safe, confined in a bubble of her youth and chasing her dreams. She had been like any other college student at GSU that semester. And now…and now she wished that she had paid more attention. She wished she had cared more for the people whose lives had been horribly affected by the Joker and his reign of terror in Gotham, because now she knew that no one was thinking about what was happening to her…about what could happen to her…

Except, there was someone who knew. Chase knew. He had seen her at the hospital. She had spoken to him, hadn't she? He had said that he would find her…would he tell the police where she was? Would he tell her parents? Her brother? I hope he tells my cello teacher.

But then, there was a part of Olivia that didn't want Chase to find her. She wanted anyone else but Chase to find her. An image of a guilt-stricken face crying behind her as a police officer tried to carry her out of Gotham General pulsed through her muddled thoughts. She had seen the agony he had been feeling clear as day. She had heard him say that he was so, so sorry for leaving her on the street. But why had he? Was her silence towards his confession of love what caused him to leave her there? If he had only ran with her, they could have reached the truck together, and they could both be back at GSU this very moment, packing for the Thanksgiving holiday. But no.

Now she was here.

She felt her awareness slowly coming back, and with it the steady throb of a migraine in her skull. It pounded heavily throughout her whole body, which felt weak and useless. There was also a generous throb of pain coming from the bullet wound in her leg. All of the pain intertwined with one another, causing her to feel nothing short of agony. Her body felt feverish on top of that, which should have concerned her, but the only thing she could think about was the throb, throb, throb, that came with each pump of her heart. Through half closed eyelids she saw the familiar hallways of the Joker's warehouse, harshly lit and nearly blinding to her, slowly passing by around her. She was still in the Joker's arms, she noticed, and she was being held tightly up against his chest like one might cradle a child who stubbed a toe. She had certainly suffered more than a mere stubbed toe.

A shiver rippled through her body, causing her teeth to chatter, and Olivia wondered at how she could be so cold, as she was still wrapped up in the giant black coat the Joker had given her earlier. She felt his grip tighten around her and thought that she must be worrying him. She tried to look up at his face but found the lights above his head too bright. She squeezed her eyes shut instead and tried to not be comforted by the Joker's concern. He was, after all, the one who had shot her in the first place.

He was also a murderer, and he liked torturing people. He is a murderer, and he likes torturing people. He likes bringing people to their absolute point of desperation. She thought then that maybe this was her point of desperation. Had he brought her to her breaking point? Had this been his plan all along? Would he torture her now? Another shiver ran through her. Above the throbbing that was pounding in her ears, Olivia could hear the Joker sucking at his scars. He was deep in thought, and she knew it. Was he thinking about how he would torture her?

In the distance, Olivia heard the sound of laughter, and of a group of people talking loudly back and forth to one another.

"Look, the boss won't be back for another hour, he was gonna head up to the pier to scope it out remember? Make his plan and all that. We got plenty of time, Steve. Calm down. You don't want to be a Debbie-downer, do ya?" Oh Steve, oh dear, dear, dear Steve.

An outburst of laughter echoed through the halls, and Olivia moaned in pain. The noise was far too loud for her throbbing head. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. Everything was far too painful not to cry.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO. The boOSS is NOT happy. No, no, no, no, no, no."

Olivia felt his pace quicken and his body tense. She knew instantly that his temper had been triggered, and a cold tendril of fear snaked through her nerves. The men who weren't doing their job probably wouldn't live much longer. She felt the Joker take a sharp turn, and then heard him fiddling with a doorknob. A musty burst of air blew across Olivia's face when he finally got the door open, and she coughed from the stale taste of it. Slowly, she peeled her eyes open, curious about where he was taking her.

They were standing in a room she hadn't seen yet, which shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did, since there was seemingly an endless number of doors with a potential endless number of rooms behind them in this place. Still, she felt herself beyond surprised. In the center of the room, there was a queen-sized bed, outfitted with a faded yet comfy looking comforter and a plethora of pillows. Next to the bed there stood an antique looking nightstand that held a single, plain table lamp. There was also a similar looking dresser standing up in the far corner, as well as a gorgeous looking wooden, full-length mirror that for all Olivia knew could have sold for millions at Antiques Roadshow. Olivia felt flabbergasted. This had been the last thing she had expected to see.

The Joker took her to the bed, ripping back the comforter before gently laying her down. By this point, Olivia was shaking so badly that her body was nearly in convulsions. Even still, she noticed how comfortable the bed felt beneath her. Much more comfortable than the bed she had slept in the last time she was here.

Now that his face wasn't directly in the light, she could see him again, and boy, did he look worried. She stared at him as he moved with quick and shaky movements. First, he pulled at the zipper on her jacket, ripping it open and coyly peeling her out of its thick black husk. On top of the excessive shivering, Olivia was also sweating like crazy. Beneath the jacket her white blouse she had worn to the theater with Chase was soaked through. Olivia watched as the Joker sucked harshly on his scars, sucking them so tightly she thought he might break them open again. He moved a hand to her forehead, feeling the hotness of her skin. Suddenly, he was looking her in the eye.

"Look Liv, I'm going to get some medicine, some supplies, and I will be right back."

The Joker, still wearing that damned nurse's outfit, looked so severely into Olivia's eyes, almost as if he was looking to make sure that she was staring back at him. Through her half open eyelids, she did stare back at him. She tried to move her mouth to speak, but then decided against it. She wasn't even sure she had wanted to say anything. Before leaving, the Joker pulled the covers around her, trying to secure her body in a cocoon of warmth. Olivia shivered regardless.

"Don'T die on me now. I might have to kill you."

The last sentence came out with a low growl to it, as well as with a well-intentioned smirk. The Joker had made a joke. Who would've thought? Olivia would have laughed if she hadn't been certain that she was dying. She said nothing in response to him, and with that, he was out of the room, closing the door roughly behind him.

Alone in that strange room, with the strange furniture, Olivia pulled the covers around her even tighter and tried to ignore how lonely she felt now that the Joker had left her. Perhaps he was a murderer, and a psychopath, and yes, he tortured people, but she much preferred his company to the eerie stillness that now surrounded her. Besides, he hadn't made any moves to kill or torture her, so why should she be afraid of that? Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all…

She pulled the covers over her head, ashamed of her own internal struggle. What would her mother think of her, considering a man such as the Joker to be a "good" man? Her brother would certainly have a row with her, seeing as he was more protective of her than even her father. And look at you, Olivia, you know what a good man looks like. How could you compare the Joker to a man like your dad? Like your brother? To a man like Chase, is the thought she didn't dare think.

Suddenly, her stomach felt queasy, and she pulled the covers quickly away from her head. Leaning over the side of the bed, she clenched at her mid-section as she felt nausea spread through her already tortured body. Before she knew it, she was retching up a single candy bar and a bottle of water onto the warehouse floor. She cried when she saw her own vomit. She sat there, on that queen mattress, staring at her vomit on the floor, and wondered how on earth she had ended up there.

The Joker found her this way-crying, shivering, and staring at her throw up on the floor.

She could tell as he walked in the room that he felt awkward. He was carrying an open cardboard box under his arm that seemed to be full of supplies and was also carrying several bottles of water in the crook of his other arm. He stared at her crying hysterically, then flicked his eyes away uneasily from her, to the vomit, and then back to her again. Olivia could only guess at what was going on in his head. She began to feel embarrassed at herself, thinking that he must have thought her to be disgusting. She pulled the covers over her head again, wanting to cover her shame.

But the Joker wouldn't have that.

He pulled the covers away from her immediately, setting the supplies down and handing her a bottle of water. He wiped away some vomit from her mouth with his bare hand.

"Liv it'ss, okay."

Olivia felt mildly horrified when he haphazardly rubbed his hands together to get rid of the vomit. And she had been worried that he would think her disgusting. Ha!

She stared at him, through the pain, shivering relentlessly, and it struck her then so suddenly, just how much she was at his mercy. Not once since she had first seen him walk past her, gun in hand, able to take her life with a simple flick of his finger, had she not been in his mercy. She had needed him to save her life from his own goons who had captured her to begin with…and she needed him now take care of her. Without him right now, she could die. There was nothing she could do to change that.

She continued to watch him as he grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer, squirting a generous amount on his hands and rubbing them together roughly. A small part of her felt absolutely relieved. He then reached up to her skin again, most likely to feel the flush of fever in her cheeks. He leaned over, feeling her forehead, then letting his fingers fall down to her cheeks, brushing them gently. Olivia felt her heartbeat quicken even more than it was already racing.

At first, he was merely staring at her skin, and she really believed with all her heart that he was simply making sure her fever wasn't getting any worse. If there was one thing that she had learned about him while being in his company, it was that he at least seemed to be quite modest. He never stared at her inappropriately, ogling her with any sort of deep seeded hunger. He was completely opposite from his goons who had brought her here in the first place. The goons that had wanted unthinkable things.

But then, he was staring into her eyes. Olivia felt strangely drawn to them. As she stared into them, she noticed that they were actually a dark, chocolate brown, and not black at all, which she had originally thought. She found them to be quite beautiful…

It was sudden, and out of nowhere, the urge that came over her then. Months later, Olivia would think back to that moment, and just wonder what had provoked her. But there she was, reaching up to his face, still staring into his eyes. Despite the pain that coursed through her, and even despite the fact that he was indeed a murderer, Olivia bridged the gap between them and touched his face. She hadn't realized it, but in doing so, she accidentally reached straight towards one of scars. Her hand only rested there for a moment, barely tracing the jagged pit around his mouth, when the Joker immediately sprung away from her. He slapped her hand away and jumped up so fast, it made Olivia dizzy. Instantly, she felt a new throb in her hand from where he slapped her.

"I'm…I'm sorry." Olivia felt her lips tremble as she spoke. She was frightened. She knew how easy it was for his mood to snap back and forth. Maybe the favor she had found with him could snap away just as easily. She wasn't even sure why she had done it. He was a madman after all, intent on killing her most certainly. Why touch him?

The Joker turned from her, and a dark cloud seemed to cover over his demeanor. She saw him clenching his fists, most likely to reign in his anger. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. Olivia felt like he stood there for hours.

"DON'T…do that….again."

The timbre of his voice was unlike any she had heard in her entire life.

When Olivia didn't say anything, he turned back around, expecting to hear her answer. The tears that he saw spewing from her eyes seemed to soften him a bit. The rigidity of his form relaxed, and he unclenched his fists.

"I'm sorry," Olivia's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to apologize again. The Joker moved to the side of the bed, completely silent, and sat down. Olivia wondered again if he was moments away from releasing his pent-up anger.

But he didn't. He merely reached into the box of medical supplies, pulled back her covers, and attended to the wound on her leg. He didn't say a word as he gently worked off the strips of his own nurse's outfit-the same strips he had tied there in a hurried rush on the school bus.

Olivia grabbed the side of the bed and clenched her teeth, doing everything she could to not cry out in pain. She watched as the Joker paused his work to grab some fresh gauze and what looked like a bottle of anti-septic. He looked back at her, once again sucking his scars. The scars that she had touched briefly…

"You may want to close your eyes," he said, his voice that same, strange tone of normal that she had heard before.

She listened, shutting her eyes so tightly together, anticipating the pain that was coming. And here it is, she thought through her clenched forehead, the moment of desperation.

When she felt the alcohol touch her open skin, she could not help herself- she cried out with immense pain.

The Joker is a murderer, and he loves torture.

Olivia knew then that it had to be true.