"Dollface, I have a surprise for you. Have you, ah, been a good girl?"
Joker sings, kicking open the door to the small apartment. They're staying in an old dilapidated complex that he and his men are using as a temporary base. All-day, he's been agitated and on edge, pacing around and muttering to himself. Everyone in proximity could feel his impatience from the orders barked out and insults thrown at anyone foolish enough to drag their feet. These morons know better than to waste precious time... He couldn't wait to get back, filled to the brim with energy and pumped in anticipation. Not even having the Chechen cut up and fed to his dogs did anything to quell his innate desire to return as quickly as possible...
Walking through the threshold, his lips curl up with a snarl. There's no one here... Not seeing the pinkette sitting on the sofa and waiting for him, or hearing the familiar pitter-patter of her feet across the wooden floorboards irks him to no ends. It's impossible that she didn't hear him coming. He purposefully makes plenty of noise on his way up the stairs to alert her of his presence. That gives her a fair chance to prepare herself, which is something the clown wouldn't consider doing for anyone else. There's no way of her knowing when he'll suddenly pop-up, but that's never stopped him before. She knows better than to ignore him.
'I'm gonna have to punish her again... I'll have to try not being so heavy-handed with the condition she's in...'
Smacking his lips together, dark eyes stare up towards the ceiling as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There isn't much he asks for, so why does everyone have to be so — so difficult? Joker growls in annoyance, tugging his belt off. Why does that woman have to make him do this? Can't she just listen to what he says? He does things for a reason and to be honest, it really seemed like she was on board now... She's been doing so well! Why now, of all times?
"Sakura?" The smeared greasepaint he's worn since this morning cracks from an agitated muscle in his face twitching. Doesn't she realize by now this is the best part of his day? Or does it really mean that little to her?
"Where are my babies at?" Perhaps the pinkette's feeling ill again and taking a nap? That has to be it. She wouldn't purposefully ignore him, knowing how it sends him spiraling into another one of his fits. Neither of them like it when he's enraged, especially the clown. Cause her pain just doesn't bring him joy or excitement the way it used to. That ship's sailed a while ago.
Every day, Joker finds himself looking forward to coming back and seeing a bright face waiting for him. That was originally the only part of her he would intentionally avoid during his erratic episodes. Occasionally, when she became too mouthy for her own good, he'd take a swipe at her pale face, only to regret it later on. It just isn't right for a face like that to be blemished or distorted. It's far too delicate and beautiful, even for his artistry.
These days, he tries avoiding striking her at all. He doesn't want to harm his child or cause her to miscarry. If that happens, the world of pain he'll have to inflict is almost too much for even him to bear...
Stepping across the threshold, the battered dress shoes make the floorboards creak under his weight. The clown stomps through the apartment, hoping the noise will draw her out from wherever she's hiding. What the hell's going through that little pink head of hers? Did she lose her goddamn mind? This is practically asking for retaliation.
Perhaps Harley was foolish enough to come in again during his absence? Didn't he teach that stupid blonde a good enough lesson the last time around? Maybe it's time to put an end to that obsessive woman... She's nothing but a thorn in his side these days with her incessant complaining and jealousy-fueled antics. If the circumstances were different, he might have found some amusement in her desperate attempts. Unfortunately for that skank, he finds nothing even remotely funny about her behavior.
Joker hates it when Sakura hides... This apartment is for her to live in, so he has somewhere for them to be alone together. The former doctor didn't appreciate that. Not. One. Bit...
When the clown noticed bruises that weren't his doing—he remembers every single one—the rage throughout the complex couldn't be contained. If Rocco hadn't reminded him of how useful the blonde occasionally was, she'd be long dead by now. He would have continued beating her to death, after taking his unbridled anger out on a handful of henchmen.
Joker doesn't give a shit if she's jealous or worships the ground he walks on. A woman won't get in the way of what he wants, especially not someone like Harleen Quinzel.
After breaking out of Arkham, they had their fun. Killing, fucking, robbing places, blowing stuff up, setting everything ablaze... It was a fun time, but that didn't last long... A man can only have someone begging for their attention and cock so many times before it becomes boring. None of it brought him the satisfaction he desires. Harley is always down for anything and everything he wants to do. Sure, she'd hit him back once in a while, even started yelling and stomping around like an impertinent child. The woman just doesn't get it and never really understands the way his brain is wired. Having a degree in psychiatry doesn't make someone all-knowing and he let the tart in on that little secret many times over.
Sometimes, there's just a large, gaping hole inside that left him completely puzzled. That empty space led him to try filling it with a variety of things—money, weapons, killing, fucking, arson, complicated schemes, stealing—anything that might get him off. No matter what he did, everything was useless. That fucking hole was still here, laughing and taunting him to no end. That's a concept the 'talented' doctor failed to notice or comprehend. He wasn't going to waste his time or breath trying to articulate what that truly means. Hell, he didn't understand it himself... If a genius like the Joker can't grasp something, how can a ditzy slut possibly get wrap her head around it? Most of the time, the only thing she wants to do is wrap her lips around his cock and that's perfectly fine.
There was a problem with their little arrangement, and she couldn't see that, even though it was clear as day. The Joker doesn't want someone that's so similar. That's what she tried to model Harley Quinn after. It's only a character Harleen created in an attempt to suit his desires. There's nothing genuine about it... Soon, he found himself back to wandering the streets again. The clown was constantly searching for anything that can ignite the flame inside that's starting to wane. A roaring inferno that's left flickering into a small ember. How unforgivable for a man who's the embodiment of fire and chaos...
Shortly after realizing this, he met that woman who screwed everything up...
It was dark out and freezing, just another night during the winter months in Gotham. That never bothered him, since he rarely feels much these days, anyway. Not the fear that used to make his body shake with a cold sweat as a child, nor the delicious sensation of pain from the bite of a blade. He misses it and goes out of his way to relive those sensations that cause his blood to boil and race.
Stalking down another garbage littered alleyway, he stops to shake the white fluff starting to melt into his messy hair. The clown growls out in annoyance, cursing under his breath. This is exactly why he never trusts the weather forecast or any fool behind a desk. Popping his lips, Joker glances up when he hears a noise and it's at that moment everything changed. A woman walks by, clinging to her coat and shivering, with little clouds of breath pouring from her pink lips into the frigid air. The clown froze on the spot, feeling the wind knocked out of him like a punch straight to the gut.
Saying she's beautiful wouldn't have done any sort of justice. The woman has the appearance of an angel, gracefully floating over the snow. A yuki-onna, waiting to lure some poor sap in and suck the life right out of him.
Without a second thought, Joker follows. Hanging back in the shadows, the black pits in his sockets observe from a distance. They were sucked in and couldn't find it in themselves to look anywhere else... He became completely entranced with the pale beauty.
For three days, he studied every little thing this woman did with interest. The clown doesn't understand why, but even the most mundane tasks were intriguing. How her slim body moves so fluidly, the way she talks and interacts with others... He couldn't help eating it all up and wanting more. From one glance at her uniform, it's clear she works at Gotham General. Of course, that's the case. It seems to be in her nature to help others... At work, she's nimble on her feet, thoughtful, and caring with the patients who need aid. Constantly showing them a loving, maternal side those people never deserved.
No one can be more different from the Joker... She's the complete opposite in every way, and he's living for it. The clown's tall with broad shoulders, greasy faded green hair, and his tan skin littered with gnarly scars and old wounds that healed poorly. Rough and battered with a penchant for violence. This woman's petite and incredibly smaller compared to him. Her long, bright pink locks appear to be made of silk that runs down the length of her back, always so neat and clean. Her skin is entirely unblemished, smooth and white like porcelain, almost begging for him to sink his teeth in. He always has an urge to break things that seemed too perfect...
This creature can't be of this world. Women aren't made this way. If she's a demon, so be it... However, instead of her overtaking him, he'll possess her at all costs. An idea quickly forms in his head from becoming impatient. Something needs to be done. There comes a point where stalking just isn't enough anymore.
After passing out in an alleyway with a piece of shrapnel embedded in his side from a homemade explosive—conveniently outside of her building—Joker woke up to a bizarre scene. Lying on a couch in a warm apartment, he was initially shocked at the sight of the pink-haired woman trying to nurse him back to health. The only thing more surprising than the color scheme of this person up close, is the way her green eyes didn't stare at his scars or even seemed horrified when she cleaned the greasepaint from his skin, revealing them.
Didn't even bat an eye!
The little vixen took a complete stranger into her home, without realizing or caring who he is, gently cleaning and bandaging him up. He couldn't help laughing at her foolishness... or leaning into her soft, delicate hands while she cared for him. All these years, Joker thought he'd seen and experienced everything that life has to offer. Closing his eyes and trying to steady the erratic rhythm beneath his tan skin, it dawned on the clown that he couldn't remember if anyone ever tried doing anything like this for him before. For some reason, this entire experience suddenly became troubling and left him more confused than he's ever been.
After she left for her shift at the hospital three days later, he suddenly vanished. Joker didn't leave a note or any sign that he was ever there in the first place, aside from the wrappings she laid out on the counter that morning. It must have seemed rude to just leave without a word after all the hours and time she spent caring for him. The pinkette allowed him to take up her precious time, cooking meals, and making sure he's comfortable. It was a mind-boggling experience, and he wasn't used to that kind of treatment or ever expected it from another human being. However, the clown is not a complete monster... It was only a few days later that he returned to show his appreciation for all her efforts.
Apparently, the pinkette didn't want him to show his gratitude. That doesn't matter, because he did it anyway... Everyone in Gotham learns the hard way that whenever the Joker wants something, he damn well gets it.
And learn she did...
It took some time to break Sakura in after giving her a new home. She didn't like the moving arrangements, but as with all new things, people have to adapt and accept change. Sometimes that takes much longer than he would have liked.
Months and months...
Harley threw a fit when he carried the unconscious pinkette through the doors of the complex, scratching and hitting him in her anger. Even trying to rip the woman from out of his arms... A few fists thrown later, and the blonde was knocked back in her place. Who the hell is she to tell him what to do? Just because he allowed her to keep living and didn't mind sticking it in now and then, doesn't mean that whore has a say about anything.
"I'll kill that little bitch!" The blonde screams and threatened. Rocco had to calm him down enough to let go of Harley's throat when her face turned blue.
Every night, he sauntered up to the apartment he gifted Sakura, and she'd fight him tooth-and-nail. Couldn't she see that he just wants to spend some time together? That he doesn't enjoy having to carve into her skin to show who she belongs to? Hates having to beat her into submission? If only she realized how much those moments mean to him, maybe she'd have some gratitude.
"I hate you... I hate you!" Sakura didn't mean it and he knows that. She's just upset about the blood staining the new bed and silk sheets he got just for her.
Why couldn't she appreciate all the effort he put into their relationship? Harley would've died a happy woman if he did 1/100th of that to her. However, it's not the doctor that takes up all the extra space in his mind that isn't dedicated to his schemes, but the pinkette. The clown doesn't want a cartoon character to run their fingers through his messy hair. It's Sakura's delicate hands he desires to trace his scars and make him feel whole. She fills that void in his chest, which is something he desperately needed, without realizing that's what was missing.
It took a long time, but he coerced the pinkette into doing that. After all, he doesn't want to keep hitting and cutting into her pale flesh more than he already has to... Those are the sacrifices he's willing to make for love. He's pretty sure that's what this feeling is called whenever they're together. The one where his chest is heavy, and he breaks out in a sweat just thinking about her. That sensation that someone filled his veins with molten lava when he sees her. It's almost like being hooked up to a live-wire the moment her fingertips ghost over his skin. Spending plenty of time in Arkham with Jeremiah, he knows exactly how that feels. If this isn't love, then Joker has no fucking clue what this is, because he's never experienced it before.
There's nothing better after a long day, than to come home and have a beautiful woman wipe off the greasepaint and tenderly caress his bare face. Even Harley never receive that luxury. Whether it's through fear of pain or reluctance, it doesn't matter anymore... He knows Sakura learned to love him. What better way to show it than allowing her to carve into his own flesh with a blade and etch her initial into his body? He couldn't think of a more fitting tribute for the woman that stole the little lump of coal in his chest.
Months flew by quickly, much faster than he cares to think about. Soon the pinkette learned her place as she waited for him in the living room or the bed, wherever he wants her to be. They started a new routine together, one he relishes every day at the thought of. There's finally something to look forward to.
Harley doesn't care for it. Not. At. All. Such a greedy, selfish woman... That's why she could never be the chosen one. The blonde's more than willing to die for him, but that's too easy. It only takes a second to get shot, and he knows that all too well. Living for another person shows true dedication and artistry. Lots of patience and finesse, diligence, and refined attention to detail. That's something an average person can accomplish.
Anyone can go out and buy a car. Keeping that car in mint-condition for years proves how much it truly means to its owner. That's what Harleen is... Just a motorcycle he bought on a whim, rode for a while, then discarded in the junkyard. Sakura... Now, that's a completely different story. She's a prized, luxury car he'll clean and polish every day, as long as it's his.
Poor Harley couldn't understand the reference... She never gets his jokes.
The blonde became too cocky and waited until he left to sneak up into the apartment where Sakura's confined. She used his absence to take her anger out on his most prized possession. The pinkette had so many bruises to begin with—from the his rough treatment in and out of bed—that he didn't notice right away. After seeing a mark on her precious face, he knew something was up and everyone paid for it that night...
Joker tries to make up for it the best way he knows how. Buying the small woman anything a woman can ever want, revealing the tender side of himself as he washes away the blood and bandages her carefully, the same way she did long ago. Sakura learned to appreciate it and him. There isn't much of a choice and he never gave her one, anyway.
The nights eventually became like a dream come true. He enjoys her soft hands running through his hair, kissing the raised scars around his mouth in a way no one's ever done. Listening to his plans and giving suggestions when he asks for it on the rare occasions he's not feeling very creative. Instead of trying to run away and forcing him to hurt her to where she can't leave the bed, she stays and waits for him to return to show how much he appreciates her compliance.
Joker's as patient and understanding as a mad clown can be, but the hard work paid off. Now she's everything he wanted her to be... Molded into the perfect lover he knew she had the potential for. She's his precious little bunny, the gift this shitty life finally gave him. Someone he can love and hold to his heart's content without worrying about her disappearing on him...
"Sakura?" Not hearing anything, he stomps through the apartment. His violent temper is getting the best of him. One of two things will happen — either Harley's about to be punished to the next extreme or Sakura has to deal with the scratches along her back as he yanks her around the bed in his frenzy... One way or another, someone's going to pay for her absence after he waited all day to come home.
The door to their bedroom is closed. That's something the clown never likes to see when he comes back. She knows better... The only time it's not supposed to be open is in his absence. He doesn't want anyone else to come in here or see her. She only exists for his eyes and attention. Quite a few goons were tortured and killed since their relationship started. Unwarranted looks, roaming eyes, careless hands, or comments when they think he can't hear them. Joker sees and hears everything, and it takes very little to get his jealousy roaring with anger. A flame so hot, it burns black, incinerating everything and everyone in its path... That's one reason he keeps the pinkette locked-up in here. She's the only peaceful part of his life, and he refuses to share it with anyone else.
Grabbing the handle, the urge to kick the door down is only quelled by his possessiveness and desire to keep an extra barrier up between his little slice of heaven and the rest of the building. If he destroys the door, it gives someone an opportunity to "get lost" and wander into the apartment by accident. Unfortunately, he doesn't accept excuses or apologies and rectifies any mistakes with a blade.
Twisting the knob, Joker's brow furrows when he realizes it's locked. It shouldn't be... Sakura knows better than to try keeping him out. It only takes 15 seconds at most to pick it, and she learned that a long time ago. Throwing his weight against the door, it quickly gives way and slams into the dingy wall behind it. Stepping into the room and letting his eyes re-adjust to the dim surroundings, he freezes on the spot.
"What?... No-No-No..." Dark eyes widen as the clown tries to steady himself. He loses balance from his knees quaking beneath him, threatening to give out under his weight. His entire body feels crafted from heavy lead, unable to move with gravity keeping him pinned to the floor. A cold sweat breaks out over the surface of his skin, causing the greasepaint to weep further down until it trails the contours of his neck. White and red lick the collar of his purple trench coat and he can feel the perspiration soaking through the thick, colorful layers of his clothing. For the first time in his life, Joker thinks he might be in shock. Genuine shock, not surprise or a little taken off guard. The kind that stops a person's heart and causes their body to stop functioning properly. Where a single string of thought is impossible and everything becomes incomprehensible.
Taking a step forward, he sucks in a breath without realizing he was depriving his lungs of any oxygen. It takes a moment to snap out of the daze, realizing he needs to act. Launching himself onto the mattress, gloved hands grab at the body lying on top of the sheets. Everything's red and pink... Two colors he reveled in before, but only causes his stomach to twist now.
Clutch tightly in her tiny fist is the knife he gifted her a few weeks ago for their anniversary. The one that's to keep her safe when he's gone. A lump forms in his throat as he shakes her, trying to make the pinkette wake-up and stop playing games. This joke isn't funny. Not. At. All... Blood seeps through his green waistcoat and pinstriped pants when he pulls her limp body against him, smacking his shaking hand against her cheek. That'll wake her up, right? She always hates it when he does that...
"Sakura... C'mon, dollface." Joker stares down at her wildly, desperate to get some sort of reaction from her. Why won't she wake up? He's home now.. Doesn't she realize this is the only thing he looks forward to?
"Enough screwing around! LOOK. AT. ME." This is the commanding voice he saves for the tapes he broadcasts over the news. That should make her listen and give up on this foolish act, but she doesn't move a muscle. Panic starts to sink in as the corner of his scarred mouth twitches. Every muscle in his body is strained and pulsing against his clothes.
Joker doesn't know what to do... He never doesn't know what to do and always has several contingency plans in place for everything.
"Don't make me beg... Wake up! I fucking said wake the hell up!" His voice turns into an angry roar, the only other version that always scares her straight. The one that's full of promises of endless pain if she refuses to listen. He jerks her around violently, slapping her cheek hard enough to leave a terrible bruise. Later on, he'll regret touching her face, but he's losing control of himself. Sakura will forgive him for it, she always does...
The soft fabric hugging her body is no longer the wonderfully deep emerald color he enjoys seeing her wear so much. Shades of green always compliment her pink hair and pale skin, always so striking on the eyes. The silken slip is turning black in the dim lighting with the fluids from the deep slashes engraved into her wrists bleed out.
"Please... Wake up... I'm-I'm...sorry. Just wake up..." A word completely foreign to the Joker and the most difficult act he's ever committed. He's never apologized for anything in his life. If it's pleading she wants so badly, he has no other choice but to give in. He'll do it a million times if that's what she needs from him right now.
Sakura's just sleeping, he can tell. She always has that peaceful look these days when they sleep together in this bed. Is the pinkette angry he came home later than usual? Upset that he didn't kill that blonde witch yet? Agitated that he spent most of the day tormenting the city she hadn't seen in such a long time?
That's it... She's probably irritated that he doesn't let her out enough. Maybe Sakura just needs... some fresh air. That makes sense when he thinks about it. How can he be so shortsighted? Who can live all cooped up like this? No wonder she's pissed, he'd lose his mind under the same circumstances.
Carefully laying her down against the soaked sheets, he storms over to the window and punches the sturdy wood nailed into the old frame. It blocks out the view of The Narrows and stops her from seeing there's a world outside this apartment. If he broke his knuckles from slamming his fist through the thick boards, he can't feel it as the pieces fall to the floor.
The moonlight shines in through the broken part of the wall, letting the frigid winter air rush into the room. The cold should cause her to shiver and reach out towards him or the blankets to cover up her small body from harsh temperatures. Just anything... Even the slightest movement will do right now.
"Look... I'm willing to compromise! See?" Kneeling back onto the mattress, he's at a loss when she doesn't move an inch. Not a shudder, a twitch from a muscle, or a grimace... Her skin didn't even prickle with goosebumps like it always does when it's freezing.
"Don't-Don't do this to me... I said I'm sorry, Sakura.." Dark eyes burn as he flops down on the damp silk, dragging her limp form onto his lap. Joker truly doesn't know what to do... His lip quivers, blinking hard at the unfamiliar emotions rolling through him. A while ago, he desired to experience pain, something that will either make him feel alive or dead, just something...
This isn't it.
The trembling in his limbs won't stop when he pulls her closer, burying his nose into the long pink strands. Wrapping his arms around her, the pounding in his chest almost convinces him that it's coming from the pinkette. A gloved hand reached down, running his fingers over the small bump growing across her stomach. If Sakura isn't going to wake up, that means the baby won't either...
Hot, angry tears cause the greasepaint on his face to run down his tan skin into the pink hair that still feels so soft to the touch. Leaning her head back, he presses his lips against hers, smearing red along her mouth and leaving the woman with a terrible smile she's unwilling to give him. Pulling back, he stares at her face, wishing that she'd just open her eyes, even if it's only to glare at him.
Pitch-black orbs widen at the dark marks along her jaw and pale neck. Those weren't there when he left this morning... He hasn't hit her in a while and her skin shouldn't have a single bruise. Prying the knife from her fingers in a blind rage, he lays her down against the bed and storms through the room.
Of course... How couldn't he see it before? Sakura would never willingly leave him... She wouldn't have... Not in a million years.
Ripping the door off its hinges, Joker takes the stairs a couple at a time, barely seeing anything over the blinding white-hot anger. The world will pay their dues for each and every indiscretion against him. He's done playing games, for good. Tonight, Gotham will go up in flames and burn to the ground. Everyone and everything will be incinerated with it, including himself...
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the goons that notice him covered in blood after coming from the apartment on the top floor scurry off as quickly as possible. Right now, there isn't a single thing Rocco can say or do to stop him.
"Harley, I have a surprise for you. Have you, ah, been a good girl?"