When she awoke however many hours later, she noticed another visitor propped back in a chair, ankle slung over his knee as he scrolled through his phone.
"Boo!" she shouted.
Taj shot up in his chair, phone slipping out of his hands and clamoring to the floor.
"You fucking psycho," he blurted, holding a hand to his chest. "I uh…I mean…good to see you back among the living."
She giggled as he picked up his phone.
"Sorry," she mended. "Can you tell I'm a little bored?"
"And you thought you'd take it out on me?"
She shrugged.
"You made it easy."
He scoffed, pocketing his device to keep it from suffering any more ambushes.
"Thanks for stopping by," she said, quieter. "It's good to see you."
"I'd say the same, but you look like you're in a lot of pain." He re-scanned her. "Are you?"
"Painkillers are doing their work," she answered. "I was more worried about my hand getting infected, but the doctor cleared me on that front."
He nodded, massaging the back of his neck.
"I had to tell Wayne about my involvement in your attempted rescue. He handled it a lot better than I expected. Good job, by the way. I was half convinced I'd sent you to your suicide. And when I didn't hear from you…I may have done some online shopping for funeral wear."
"Find anything worth ordering?" she asked, not blaming him in the least.
"Men's Warehouse is having a thirty percent off sale for all online purchases. I've always looked good in gray, so uh…yeah…not ordered, but it's in my cart. I'm hoping it'll stay that way."
"Me too," she answered softly.
His gaze turned to all the flowers surrounding her.
"Looks like you're in the City Council's good graces. Any chance you can help me out of some parking tickets?"
"I don't know that it works like that, but if the opportunity presents itself, sure."
They were silent a moment.
"I can trust you not to talk to the media, right?" she asked. "It'd be a nice chunk of change in your pocket…so I get it if you want to cash in on what you know-."
His interruption was swift.
"My lips are stitched and sealed," he assured. "Both on this Joker thing and the Martha Graves lawsuit."
Pushing herself up in the bed, she cocked her head, brows furrowed.
"Martha Graves lawsuit?"
"Yeah, the-."
He froze.
"Oh."
He bit down on his lip. Hard.
"Wayne didn't tell you," came his barely audible mumble.
"Tell me what?"
Taj drummed his fingers against a bouncing knee.
"Fuck." He hung his head. "It's-you're-we're…getting…sued."
She shook her head, swinging her bandaged hand counterclockwise.
"Start from the beginning."
He glanced up at her through his curls.
"I guess it happened Wednesday, which makes sense why you don't know anything about it. Still…I figured Wayne would have told you by now. There uh…there's this woman - Martha Graves -whose daughter Elle had been using Oz Ascending for the last six months. She suffered from some sort of trauma and had been talking through her suicidal thoughts with Dr. Suarez every evening. From what I understand, he did as protocol, even offered to begin treating her himself and setting up more personalized appointments. Elle ended up hanging herself sometime Monday morning. Her mom went through her phone, found our app, read all the messages, and is now convinced we're liable for her suicide. She filed the claim Wednesday, you're due in court two days from now to dispute it. That's what Wayne's been doing when he hasn't been here. Talking with our lawyers and weighing out if she has a case against us or not. He assured me she doesn't, the clauses were worded air-tight on the first page of the terms and condition, but I've heard through the grapevine she's been reaching out to media outlets for an interview on the suit. Which ah…might not look good for us."
She felt as if he'd dumped a bucket of hungry scorpions over her.
"Are we liable?"
Her voice cracked a little asking this. Guilt was rapidly inflating her lungs.
"No," he assured. "Wayne and our lawyers made sure something like this could never come back to bite us in the ass. The transcripts from Elle and Dr. Suarez's conversations will prove we weren't in the wrong. Dr. Suarez did everything possible to get her serious, one on one help. But this Graves woman…she's hellbent on blaming someone. We just happen to be that convenient someone."
She shook her head and massaged her temples, working on her breathing. In. Seven seconds. Out. Five seconds. In. Seven. Out. Five.
Taj waited patiently for her to calm down.
"Okay…okay…we uh…we show the court the clauses in the terms and conditions. We show Elle agreed to them. We present the transcripts of their conversation…lawsuit gets tossed? Yes? This gets covered by the media, none of the them go through with the interview, recognizing she has no legs to stand on. Right?"
He hesitated.
"I'm hoping that's how it turns out, but people in grief…they sometimes hold on to that because it's easier than admitting someone you love is gone."
She soaked these words in, intimately aware of how right he was. She had blamed the deaths of her mom and Cathy for so long on her own laziness and selfishness. At least if she took blame, they couldn't leave her. Ultimately, this grief sabotaged her from moving on when the time came.
Taj was right. Sometimes, we allow grief to overstay its welcome because at least it's a guest.
"I need to talk to Martha Graves," she stated. "I need to talk to Dr. Suarez and get those transcripts. I need to talk to our lawyers. I need-."
"Chill...just...chill out for a second." He slowly lowered his hand. "Wayne isn't going to let you take the fall for this. He's got your back."
She shook her head.
"It doesn't look good if the investor is handling everything and the app owner is staying silent. I need to be proactive about this."
"You need rest."
"I need to be proactive about this," she repeated, slower, maintaining eye contact. "Bruce can only do so much. Has…have Martha and Bruce met?"
"Briefly. She's uh…not a fan of his, to put it nicely. He offered to pay her funeral expenses, she not so kindly declined."
"All the more reason to meet with her. She needs to relate to someone who's been where she has, not someone that's trying to heal the wound with money. Generous as Bruce's offer was, that she didn't take it tells me she's keeping that pain close to the heart. When is Bruce-?"
The rest of her question was cut off by a ding on her phone.
Sorry, meeting went a little longer than anticipated. I'll be there by five-thirty. What do you want for dinner?
Her four fingers tightened around the phone. That he would keep her in the dark about something so monumental and potentially career-ruining bothered her more than she cared to express. Bottom line, it was still her app. Yes, she acquired someone to help fund it and they helped her acquire programmers and coders to help keep it run, but at the end of the day, she was responsible for its conception and function. She was responsible for the user base. If they ran into trouble, she should have been the first one notified. It was mortifying being so in the dark about this potential lawsuit. About the death of someone who hadn't received help in time.
My usual salad from Goretzka's. Pls and ty, I'll pay you back.
She figured it would be best to talk out in person what she'd just learned rather than text. He might not show up at the hospital due to fear of being confronted.
"Sorry you had to find out from me," Taj offered, hanging his head between his legs.
"If you hadn't told me, I might never have."
He sighed.
"We will get through this," he encouraged, peeking up at her. "Think of all those who are still alive because they had someone to listen to them when they needed it most. That won't be forgotten, the users won't let it."
His loyalty to her cause was sweet, but her mind was still reeling over Martha Graves. Normally not one to lose her cool easily, she was having a tough time figuring out what she planned to say to Bruce when he arrived that wasn't predominantly expletive-based.
"I can see Wayne's going to get his ass handed to him when he gets here. No offense, but I'm gonna dip out before that happens."
"None taken," she mumbled as he moved to the door.
He ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp.
"I'm…glad to see you're alive and kicking. But …if you plan on doing something that crazy again, include me only as a last possible resource. This was a learning experience. I don't do well looking out for another person. I don't do well with clowns. And I spent more time than I ever cared to imagining all the ways you were being tortured. I don't mean to be a pussy, but I'm cool with letting Batman save the day."
"Duly noted," she accepted. "Thank you for doing as much as you did."
He nodded.
"Get well soon and uh…I'll probably see you in the next few days. Guess it'll all depend on what you and Bruce decide on."
They exchanged a last-minute wave before he departed.
She had roughly a half hour to ruminate on what to say. The calmer, the better. She didn't want to say something that could complicate her relationship with Bruce beyond repair. Heated as she was, he was still her friend.
Unfortunately, that level-headed generosity went out the window the minute Bruce peeked his head from around the door, elbows heavy with two takeout bags.
She still had a half-eaten chocolate pudding cup resting in her lap. The moment he entered the room, she grabbed the pudding cup with her left hand and launched it at his head. He had half a second to duck out of the way; a mural of brown splattering the wall where his head used to be.
His eyes were huge as he slowly rose back up to his full height. She crossed her arms, teeth clamped firmly around her tongue.
It didn't take long for understanding to dawn on him.
"I take it Taj told you about the Graves lawsuit?"
"The better question is why I had to hear it from him and not you."
He sighed wearily, approaching her with hesitant steps.
"I figured after getting the hell beaten out of you, losing a finger, and being unconscious for two days, "we're getting sued" might not be the first words to welcome you back with. You had enough on your plate as it was. If I could handle this without burdening you, I would."
She grumbled and accepted the bag he handed to her. It made sense. Were the positions reversed, she may have done the same just to keep his mind focused on healing.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
"…eventually."
"Eventually? Bruce, she's going to news outlets about this! Would you have preferred I learned this information from a biased exposé rather than you? What would I have said if they started pestering me on the street about this? I'd have looked like an idiot, unaware of what was happening in my own workspace. If the last few days haven't convinced you, let me reiterate-I can handle a lot more than you think. I can handle a lot more than I think. You should have told me the first day I woke up. We could have brainstormed a solution together instead of you working behind my back."
He dropped into the chair, careful to avert his gaze from her.
"I'm sorry. I was doing what I thought was best."
He resembled such a dejected puppy she immediately felt any hovering frustrations subside. He'd apologized from the heart, there was no sense in dragging her agitation out. No sense in making him feel worse when they were on the same side.
She fiddled with her salad bowl.
"I know you were," she followed up, softer. "I think a part of it is…being a little overwhelmed about this girl's suicide. Have…have you read Elle and Dr. Suarez's transcripts?"
"No, not yet. Dr. Suarez has a copy, as do our lawyers. I'm set to meet with both tomorrow. If you're feeling up to it after your discharge, I'll drive you over with me."
She nodded, stabbing at some spinach and tomatoes.
"I want to stop at Arkham first and talk with Dr. Suarez personally," she decided. "The transcripts are only a part of the story. Dr. Suarez has been a licensed youth psychologist for nearly fifteen years. I don't buy that he would lead her astray. She had to have been in a super sensitive state prior to speaking with him. Similarly, after we get done meeting with the lawyers, I want to meet with Martha Graves. Just her and me. I uh...I've been told she doesn't care for you."
"The feeling is mutual," came his murmur. "I'll have it all arranged."
"Thank you."
His smile was shaky.
"Sorry again for keeping it from you. I thought I was doing you a favor, but you're right…I forget how resilient you are. I shouldn't, but I do."
She accepted this apology, vowing no more hard feelings would be had.
"Councilman Silverra stopped by earlier," she mentioned when she was halfway through her salad. "Asked me if I wanted anything as payment for saving his hide. I told him I wanted his resignation."
Bruce's fork slipped from his fingers.
"And?"
"He'll be gone after Millburn's funeral."
He whistled and shook his head.
"Ruthless."
She shrugged.
"Joker's method was too extreme. Mine? No one had to die and it's one less creature in the lagoon. Win-win."
"Indeed," he agreed, sounding a little bit like Alfred.
The rest of their conversation geared around her dischargement tomorrow and what time the meetings at Arkham, at the law office, and with Martha Graves would fall on. The latter of which Bruce was adamant not to be a part of.
Though he never delved into what transpired between the two, his deep disdain for the woman spoke for itself. The playboy tended to take criticism and the words of any naysayers with a grain of salt. It was only people close to his heart he reserved his serious emotions for. Martha Graves appeared to have sunk her nails right under his skin and he was still feeling the effects of the sting. If he couldn't charm her, the chances of her doing so would be just as difficult.
It was only when visiting hours were coming to an end that Bruce turned to her with a solemn look.
"If you're not feeling at least halfway decent tomorrow, we can always reschedule. The meetings can wait, your health comes first."
"We need to get on top of this before it buries us," she answered calmly. "For my own peace of mind, I need to at least make an attempt."
He grimaced. She picked up on it instantly.
"Is she really that bad?"
One shoulder rose in a half-shrug.
"I guess you'll find out."
She tried not to linger on this too much as Bruce pecked her on the forehead and promised to pick her up around noon to begin their busy day.
Knowing what was ahead of her, Celine ended up passing out sometime between nine and ten o'clock that evening. She dreamed she was standing on the rooftop of a hotel at least thirty stories up. Night had blanketed Gotham. Not a star was out. The wind lashed angrily at her cheeks.
It wasn't an uncommon dream she was having, but it had been years since she last had it. Years since she'd woken up with a pillow soaked in her own tears.
This time, it wasn't malnourished, auburn-haired Cathy swaying on the ledge of the roof as it so often was. No, this girl was shorter and younger, though not by much. Her goldilocks blonde hair whipped around to the tune of the wind. Her knees were bent; too committed to turn back.
As with all the other dreams of this nature, Celine could only watch on, paralyzed in place, as the figure dove off the roof, arms parted in a swan dive. She knew they hit the asphalt when the wind abruptly died, and her legs could finally propel forward.
Never in time. Always too late.
Her body jerked, pulling her out of the deep slumber. Unsure what time it was, her eyes skittered to the beeping monitor at her right.
1:07 A.M.
She stifled a groan, half-convinced the dream was an omen.
It took a few blinks to realize someone else was in the room with her. Their back was to her, facing the door. The black pants, navy blue jacket, and police hat eased her. What was it Bruce said the officer's name was? Leon? Leroy? Leslie?
Before she could get a word out to ask, the officer rose his right leg and slammed his foot against the door handle. Her eyes widened as the handle buckled violently. The officer repeated this motion three more times before his heel was able to break the handle clean off, leaving an empty hole in its place.
Celine was clutching her sheets, trying to make sense of what she was witnessing. Her first worry was that Gil had come back for her. He'd learned of her deception and was making good on his threat to take the rest of her hand.
When the officer turned to her, she didn't know whether to feel a burst of relief that it wasn't Gil, or the soul-crushing dread because it was Joker.
He was…she'd never seen him look so…human. The black paint surrounding his eyes was nearly absent save for a couple of faint smudges, as was the red usually smeared across his lips and scars. A light coating of white greasepaint covered his face all the way down to his eyelashes, paling him further than he already was.
They stared at each other, neither of them moving.
She broke the spell first, lunging for the call button on her right-hand side. Unfortunately, her lack of coordination and grip caused the controller to slip from her grasp and clatter to the floor.
Joker pounced on her; hopping atop the bed and straddling her waist, knees pressing into her shins to keep her lower body from gathering enough strength to push him off. Much like a predator reveling in their catch, he leaned over her torso and scooped up her wrists in one hand, fingers clawing into her flesh until bruises threatened to bloom to the surface.
She tried to buck him off, head swinging wildly from left to right.
The gloved hand not keeping hers restrained, grasped her cheek in mock affection.
"Shh shh shhh…relax and take your medicine."
He patted her cheek two times before whipping out a syringe and stabbing the tip into the tubing of her IV.
"No no no no no," she mumbled frantically, not nearly enough oxygen in her lungs to produce the scream she wanted to.
"Shh, shhhh," he kept soothing, thumb descending until there was nothing left inside the syringe. "That-a girl, I knew you could do it."
He was so close and so heavy that she couldn't prevent the whimper from exiting her trembling lips. For once, the stench of gunpowder, sweat, and kerosene didn't cling to him. Instead, some sort of fresh, cool cologne that she didn't find awful, invaded her nostrils. Reluctantly, she had to give him credit for his commitment to the disguise.
He cocked his head, locks brushing across her cheeks. Sometime throughout the scuffle, his hat had slipped off, revealing dirty blonde, shoulder-length hair. From the few times she'd been close enough to him, she had suspected his roots gave way to a lighter color.
With the lack of black paint overshadowing his eyes, she was amazed to find how pretty they were. Like the color of a dark bourbon, fiery and rich.
Tossing the syringe behind him, his gloved hand returned to her cheek, thumb stroking it softly. His eyes swept over all of her bruises; expression unreadable.
All the fight in her seemed to seep out. Her wrists no longer tried to escape the hand imprisoning them. She couldn't lift her lower body to save her life. A sudden bout of sleepiness made her eyes flutter.
"There it is," he murmured, bringing his face closer to her. "Don't worry, you'll live to scratch 'n kick another day. Just needed t'a sedate ya a little is all. It's mild…I think. There's uh…a chance I might've grabbed the wrong one."
Sensing there was no more fight in her, he released her wrists and brought them to her sides. The left one stayed pinned to the bed while the right one mustered some last second energy to sneak underneath her pillow.
Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough. Joker grabbed her by the wrist and yanked the hand forward, revealing her cell phone clutched loosely in her hand.
"Tsk tsk tsk, naughty girl," he reprimanded, confiscating the phone without struggle. "Ya try t'a be a nice guy and visit your girl in the hospital…"
"Not…your…girl," she huffed out.
"Mmm…debatable, but we'll save that discussion for another time, hm?"
Her cell phone sailed over his shoulder, joining the syringe on the ground.
"Now-ah…lemme see the damage dear ol'e Gil inflicted on ya."
She swallowed painfully. None of her limbs would move and her head could only turn a few inches in each direction. She'd thankfully never had to suffer sleep paralysis before but ventured a guess her current petrification resembled much of that experience.
Joker was not shy about prodding at her bruises, forcing out a wince each time he did so. He jabbed his finger at her cheekbones, her jawbones, at her healing eye, at her crooked nose, and finally resting his index finger on her split lip, the tip of his glove pushing against her teeth.
"Did ya cry when he did all this?"
He was studying her closely, finger jammed in her mouth.
She made an attempt at shaking her head, throat too closed up to emit words.
"Gil said ya didn't either…probably why he felt the need to make ya later on." He shuffled back a little to rest his weight on her waist, which made her want to deck him because sweet nebula he weighed like a circus elephant already. "As you can con-clude, I wasn't very happy to what I came home to Wednesday night. Not. One. Bit."
He looked it too; expression thunderous and severe.
She didn't have a death wish, but at that exact moment a chuckle chose to spring out of her throat.
Joker narrowed his eyes and grabbed her chin, looming over her once more.
"Something funny?"
She shook her head, but another laugh soared out seconds later.
Joker slapped her across the face. She wished the action would have smothered her mirth, but it only served to amplify it.
"You-you should have seen your expression," she gasped out, blinking back tears. "I thought for sure…I mean you stalked and researched me…but couldn't for the life of you…recognize…ahahaha…"
She wondered if there wasn't an extra little something in this sedative to make her temporarily lose her mind. This was definitely not how she'd planned to handle their exchange.
"Stop. Laughing."
When she didn't, he christened her with another slap from the opposite direction, mostly with his palm, hoping to jar her a bit. Because of the painkillers and sedative, she barely felt the strike.
Her laughter grew louder until she felt a tongue being shoved into her mouth. Joker squeezed her chin, spearing his tongue into her tonsils.
This, thankfully, seemed to do it. She coughed and gagged against the intrusion, but he wouldn't let up, teeth clashing against hers in retaliation, his tongue blocking airway to her throat until her fingers were clasping uselessly at the bedsheet.
Just when she thought she was going to pass out, Joker retracted his tongue.
She sputtered out a few breaths, chest heaving up and down.
He ran a hand through his damp locks, panting a little himself.
"I don't like being laughed at."
His left hand was hovering near his pants pocket. She had a strong suspicion he was moments away from grabbing one of his numerous knives and potentially showcasing just how much he didn't like it.
"S-sorry," she breathed out. "You're just…clever. It tickles me a little that someone like me could have pulled one over on you."
His sneer deepened.
"Jack," she reasoned, "consider the amount of times you've probably cackled up a storm after catching the police or Batman or the mob by surprise…you of all people should understand."
Her eyes followed a twitch in his jaw that shot up to his eye.
"I mean Joker," she amended hastily. "Jack is only for when we're in the bedroom, right?"
She blushed upon realizing what she'd implied.
"Not that what happened in my bedroom will ever happen again. Ever. Consider it a leap year," she rambled. "That happens once every millennium."
"Mmm…," He licked his bottom lip, considering her with a crinkled nose. "If you weren't so c-uuute, I'd stab you in the throat."
"And if I wasn't paralyzed, I'd stab you through the mouth."
He laughed so sharply her face ended up doused with a mist of his spit.
Abruptly, he wove a hand through her black locks and tugged backwards, examining the strands between his fingers.
"Hmm-p… if you choose to stay this color, I don't know that we can keep canoodling."
"You mean it's that easy to get rid of you?" Her eyes shot to the ceiling. "There is a God."
He lunged at her mouth, teeth snatching up her split lip and biting down hard. Blood pooled out from the wound, some spilling into her mouth. His tongue flicked out to lick the remainder of it off before he ghosted his lips against hers and leaned back.
She was dazzled and embarrassingly, just a little turned on by the swift action. Her mouth wasn't so apt to be witty anymore.
"I gotta remember that," he muttered more to himself. "The only way t'a shut your trap is to cover it with mine."
Her head twisted to the side, unable to meet the sudden deviousness burning in his eyes.
Fingers were back on her fiery cheek.
"Mmmm…you do blush soooo easily…tempting not to wanna see how far it extends…" His fingers roved down her jawline and along her neck, veering across her sternum and up to the curve of her right shoulder.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as his hand continued its journey down, stopping directly above her bandaged hand. His brows furrowed; from her view she couldn't detect what he was thinking.
"Didn't think ya'd ever have it in ya," he admitted, rotating her hand. "No offense but how'd you not break cover?"
His seemingly genuine curiosity had her cheeks returning to a normal temperature.
"It was mind over matter. The ends justified the means. Everything you could possibly tell yourself to avoid thinking of the injury."
She was studying it now too. The gentleness in which he held it astonished her.
"Do uh…do ya wanna see the present I got ya?"
The way he was caressing her hand didn't match up with the growing rumble of excitement in his voice.
"Not particularly."
His eyes shot to her, dropping her limb.
"Sorry," she added. "No thank you is what I meant."
His mouth twitched. One hand ruffled her hair affectionately.
"So modest, makes a clown wanna spoil ya senseless. What if I-ah pinky promise you'll like it."
When he extended a hand to her bandaged one, pinky out, she was able to muster the strength to flip him off.
It took him a second to get why. He had to whoop and holler into the sleeve of his jacket to avoid waking up the whole hospital. Because of this, he ended up dropping his weight onto her, an elbow to the left of her head the only thing propping him up.
"Oooo hoo hoo…sorry about that sweets." He giggled into her neck, hot breath heating her clammy skin. "Not one of my brighter moments."
He face-palmed himself a moment later. She wished she could do so with something much spikier.
"I ah I will have you know it took some…time getting the truth out of my longest, most loyal colleague. He thrives off of torture…and truthfully…I…always suspected he may have had a teeny tiny crush on me. Not that I blame him."
She rolled her eyes; something he picked up on.
"I'll have ya know I'm quite the ca-tch," he told her, making absolutely no effort at moving his weight off her. "No, no, no…you don't cos you're in deeeeenial. Hmm…still gotta figure out how t'a snap ya outta that. A bit annoying for someone as observant as you."
As her face warmed up again, she did her best to steer the conversation to safer waters.
"What did Gil tell you?"
"Mmm…that an efféminé man…he called you something less nice…came by for an interview and passed with flying colors. Took his beating like a good boy…lost his finger…didn't cry like a good boy, but he rolled with the punches. I'm ah…I'm assuming he did that with Sally?"
He leaned back just a little to study her better, gaze pin-pointed on her face. She got the feeling that there were still some missing pieces to the story Joker wasn't privy to. He was analyzing her, internally corroborating what she was telling him with Gil's version of events.
"It was all I could afford to have on me…anything more and it would have been suspicious."
"And Crane's serum? Not wise to lie. I know he helped you. I know it."
"Had it stuffed beneath my chest binder. When I tried calling you earlier, I was having a friend trace your location. You hung up before we could find you. I figured plan B was infiltration. By dumb luck I just happened to run across John along the way. He didn't want me to end up blindsided or killed, so offered to lure you away. Which I'm a little surprised you bought. You keep ranting about having a stiff one for me, but with how obsessed you are with Dr. Crane, I think maybe you are in deeeeenial about something," she responded, making sure to stress the word just as he had.
He'd been glowering at her throughout the duration of her explanation. When she finished speaking, he tightened the muscles in his thighs and pushed back to sit on her waist. Both gloved hands ran through his hair, fingers tangling in between the locks and shaking them every which way. It was like observing a dog getting petted by a variety of different hands.
"You are trouble with a capital T," he murmured, eyes closed. "Testing me. Yes, yes…testing me. I've not known peace since meeting you."
Whatever of her body still retained function, stiffened. Was this it? His segue way into strangling her or smothering her with her pillow or-?
"Shhhhh…," he repeated, eyes falling back to her, "I can practically hear your thoughts. They thump…like this…buh-buh…buh-buh…"
"I've never been one for dragging out the inevitable," she answered mildly. "Do what you came here to do."
He sucked in the edge of one of his cheeks, lapping up the saliva that'd gathered there.
"Ya sure about that?"
"Not like I can do anything to fight you off."
"Touché."
He abruptly got off her and hurried over to a red and white hospital cooler that had been sitting unnoticed near the door. He knelt and lifted the top up, humming a little as his hands dove into the ice.
She was too nervous to see what he'd pull out, so opted instead to train her focus on the pudding stain the nurse had miraculously missed seeing.
"You know…ya really put me in a tricky spot," he remarked, shoulders rising and falling. "Gil wasn't shy about um…discussing what he planned to do to ya. Even offered t'a bring me your body parts in repentance for his momentary lapse of judgment. That you were able to mosey on by without detection makes me a just a wee bit cranky ...but…what made me crankier was hearing Gil go on and on and on and oooonnnn about ya. Because you see…after some time, I was able to find the humor in it. That's what you do, isn't it? Hop by unseen because no one would suspect a soft little bunny to be more than it is. My mistake, won't happen again."
She couldn't help but look at him, painfully curious as to what point he was getting to.
When he turned around, she choked on a scream.
Joker stood with a zip-lock bag of ten severed fingers, the blood from them nearly obscuring the digits from view.
"Surprise!" he beamed, shaking the bag a little. "What's the saying? Eye for an eye? Tooth for a tooth? Babylonians had some real zingers."
Her mouth dropped open as far as it could go. For the life of her, she couldn't close it.
"You-."
She didn't have the words.
"Me!" he giggled excitedly. "But oh no no no no this is just one part of your present."
"You don't have to-."
He ignored her and turned back around, dumping the zip-lock bag in lieu for another one.
The moment he was facing her again, she tried to twist her head away, fighting off the urge to gag.
"Don't ah…don't normally do this, but…he was very, very adamant about raping you. Figured I'd uh…make sure he couldn't."
She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes.
"Aww you're killing me sweets. I really thought you'd take to the gesture. I not only chose you over him, I made sure there wasn't anything left of him to choose. Some would call that romantic."
"Coming from a psychopath," she couldn't help but voice, "that sounds about right."
His giggle was high-pitched.
"Glad ya appreciate my labor of love."
"Appreciate…is a strong word," she tested out. "Please…please put it away."
"I got his toes in one bag," he told her, leaning over the cooler. "Ears in another. Eyes. Teeth. Fingernails. Toenails. Hair follicles-."
"Joker. Please. Enough. I…thank you for…doing what you did. It couldn't have been easy getting rid of someone who's been loyal to you for so long. I'm sorry I put you in that position."
She risked a peek at him after thirty seconds, curious as to why he wasn't answering.
He was shaking his head instead, brow furrowed.
"You." He pointed at her. "Are far too good for your own good. On anyone else, it'd be sanctimonious. On you, it's…endearing."
"That's-that's a good thing?"
"Mmm…yes…and no."
He didn't elaborate. She didn't bother asking him to.
"So…is that it?" she asked. "You wanted to give me a present and then head off on your merry way?"
He approached her, index finger tapping at his chin.
"Not quite. Few more things I want cleared up. When uh…when'd ya recruit my boy Aesop? I'm just dying to have a chat with him next."
She tried to lift her body up.
"I swear-I swear…I don't know what I swear upon, but if you touch him, I will make you regret it."
His eyes widened comically. "Oh no! I'm so frightened!" He clutched his cheeks dramatically.
"Don't underestimate me," she growled back.
All amusement vanished from his features.
"He porked ya, didn't he?" he ventured, growing moodier with each step toward her. "That ah…that why he risked his ass to save those brats? Thinking he can have access to that sweet little slit between your legs. Mmm…no, no, no, no…that won't do."
He was readying himself to get back on top of her when she interrupted.
"You always do this! You always assume I sway men to help me by fucking them. Aesop, Bruce, John. It's ignorant and quite frankly, insulting. I don't know if that's how you get people on your side, but Aesop had good in him. Remarkably, he had good in him despite working for you as long as he had. You potentially executing those kids…it was a wake-up call for him. Pretending to kill me in that church was a wake-up call. I offered him a lifejacket; he took it. I didn't do anything. If anyone's responsible for his desertion, it's you. Be a better boss next time."
He slowly lowered his leg back down, peering at her intensely.
"He knew nothing of what I had planned," she continued. "And only agreed when I revealed myself."
"And how exactly did you know where I was?"
"John told me. You're…not as sneaky as you think."
She could tell he meant to comment on this but chose at the last moment to divert his course.
"Speaking of brats…Crow told me the funniest thing."
She knew very well where this was going. As a pre-emptive measure, she made her expression completely neutral.
"He told me-." He clutched his tummy, giggling a little. "He told me Bruce Wayne was the Bat. Funny, isn't it?"
"No, not really," she countered. "When I told him to make up a name, I didn't expect him to hate Bruce as much as he did. It makes John feel…inadequate that I'm friends with someone who's so famous and well-off. Plus…for some reason…the dating rumors really get to him. I think he thinks I deserve better."
She wasn't lying entirely. This most recent run-in with Scarecrow only reaffirmed her long-held suspicions. Some part of John would pursue her romantically if given the chance. Their conversations were too stimulating to ignore. They cared for another deeper than most human connections. Regrettably, she had never been able to transition her thoughts of him to more romantic pastures. A part of it was just the relief of having such a smart, reliable friend to intellectually engage in. She didn't want to lose that if she didn't have to.
After nearly a minute of analyzing her face with a stern squint, Joker seemed to relax his shoulders a little. The gesture brought her attention to his tight, suited form.
He looks good.
She banished that thought to the fiery pits of hell before it could manifest into something that would get her in trouble.
What is wrong with me? I'm supposed to be incensed at him, not turned on.
"I have a text from him you can read," she offered, willing to do just about anything to steer Joker's suspicions away from Bruce. "Would you hand me my phone please?"
He seemed to debate whether to do so or not. Curiosity, luckily, won out.
She let him place the device in her left hand, ignoring his burning gaze on her. Typing in her passcode with a thumb, she opened up the most recent message John had sent her. When it was up, she offered the phone back to Joker.
He skimmed the message quickly. It got her thinking he was probably an outstanding student in school.
"Aww how nice of him."
He dropped the device, causing her to grit her teeth.
Phones aren't cheap asshole.
She watched him wander around the room, gaze flickering over all the flowers surrounding her. When he located the black dahlias, he grabbed them out of the vase and approached her.
Whistling to himself, Joker placed one overtop her chest and the rest around her head, forming a halo. To say she was confused would be an understatement.
He took a few steps back and retrieved his phone. Bringing it eye-level with him, he began to snap photos of her. She doubted he needed so many, but he obviously thought different.
"The prettiest flower in the room surrounded by her favorite flowers," he mumbled, grinning wolfishly. "These uh these the ones you want for our wedding?"
She nearly choked on her spit.
"I'd prefer them at your funeral."
He let loose a cackle, pocketing his phone.
"We'll uh just have t'a see which one happens first, won't we?"
Biting his lip, he cocked his head, studying her silently.
"Was there something else you needed?" she asked, flushing a little under his scrutiny.
"Oh yes…many, many things I need."
She squeezed her eyes shut and released a shaky breath. His tone had descended into that low, playful one he used to flirt. She refused to engage.
"Ya really are a stunner, ya know that?" he continued, sounding much closer to her. "The bruises…the cute little tilt to your nose…even the missing pinky…not a lot of guys would go for a battered beauty such as yourself."
"Lucky me," she muttered.
"Look at me."
She kept her eyes sealed tight.
"Celine." His voice darkened. "Look. At. Me."
Her bottom lip began to tremble.
She felt his weight settle on top of her again. When his hair tickled her face, she reluctantly opened her eyes.
"I'm not angry anymore," he told her, index finger tracing her shivering lip back and forth. "I was at first. Not ah-not usually the butt of the joke."
His hand left her lips and moved to cup her cheek, thumb stroking a tender bruise.
"But I need smarts in my gal. Tenacity. A willingness t'a dive deep into the unknown. And ya have all of it. I thought I had ya figured…soooo glad I don't."
She didn't know why tears were gathering in her eyes. What was he trying to get out of his praise? Why say all these things if he only meant to toy with her?
"You don't believe me, do ya?"
He didn't seem like he was playing with her, but she could never be too sure with him.
"Would you believe you?"
He left the question unanswered, instead, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It was the gentlest kiss he'd ever provided her with. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye.
"I gotta lay low for a while," he mumbled, trailing the tip of his nose over her cheek. "Commissioner Gordon wants me bad. I didn't even kill anyone this time! He's being a little unreasonable, don't ya think? But eh what's a clown to do?"
The scarred flesh of his right cheek brushed against her own.
"This means you'll leave me alone?"
He met her eyes lazily.
"This means," he continued, "I'll be around more, even if ya can't see me. It's become apparent how dangerous it is to not have eyes on you. And seeing as ya stole the last pair I assigned the job to, I don't trust ya not to do it again. What better person to watch ya than me?"
She tried turning her head away from him, but he shot out a hand and tilted her head back toward him.
"Try not to look so excited," he deadpanned, lapping at his scars. "This also means that when I text you, I expect a text back. Very rude to ignore others, hm?"
"And if I don't?" she challenged.
"If ya don't, I'll sneak into Bruce Wayne's cozy little penthouse and gut Aesop like a trout. And I'll film it and make ya watch."
Again, she tried to turn her head away. Again, Joker denied her attempt.
"Are ya gonna answer my texts like a good girl?" he cooed, thumb stroking her bottom lip.
It infuriated her to answer, but she wasn't about to endanger Aesop's well-being.
"Yes," she gritted out.
"Faaan-tastic." He leaned it to kiss her again, but she pursed her lips, refusing him access.
His sigh was long and drawn out.
"What's a clown gotta do to get some lovin'?"
"There's a lot of prostitutes in this city."
"No point if you're not one of 'em."
She shouldn't have found that as charming as that was. Sadly, Joker picked up on the slight twitch in her lip.
"You don't see yet…not yet…but you will. You and I…we go together like…penicillin and bacteria…a monarch and a guillotine…a raccoon and rabies."
"Doesn't one end up destroying the other?"
"Not much a romantic, are ya?"
"And you are?"
He shrugged.
"What can I say? You make me wanna set fire to a parking lot of cars just so I can spell out your name. Speaking of…"
"Don't you dare."
His smirk was devious.
"You let me finger that deeeelicious pussy of yours, but can't handle a grand display of affection? And I thought I had intimacy issues."
She blushed. When on Earth would this sedative wear off?
"Please go," she requested quietly. "I really need rest."
"Mmm…suppose you do," he answered slowly. "How about a kiss for the road?"
Her head twisted out of his grasp, staring resolutely to her left.
"Aww…don't be like that."
Anger was beginning to brew in her chest. His entitlement amplified the feeling.
"There's a child dead because of you…and you think…you think I'm going to just let you-?"
He grabbed her chin, fingers sliding into her mouth to prevent any more words from exiting.
"News flash for ya sweets, I didn't pull the trigger. Someone chose to shoot that brat. My directions were crystal clear."
She closed her eyes and worked on her breathing. It wouldn't do to let on just how upset he'd made her.
"I've been too lenient," she voiced softly, despite the fingers in her mouth. "No more of this...whatever this is. I can't associate with you anymore."
His fingers slowly slipped out of her mouth. When he didn't say anything, she shot him a glance.
"I'm-ah afraid it's far too late for that. You've got me whether you want it or not." He snuck a hand into her hair and tightened his fingers around the locks, keeping her faced towards him. "And you will see it…eventually. No one's better matched for you than me."
She was powerless to turn away as he smashed his mouth against hers.
"Mphf-." She tried to twist her head away, but he kept a firm hold on her hair.
The kiss could hardly be called that. She could feel him pouring out all of his agitation into her, tongue darting after hers anytime she attempted to evade his. The grip in her hair tightened as he thrusted his hips into her, his half erect cock digging into her stomach. A tussled moan traveled out of his mouth and into hers. She was struggling to get air into her lungs. As a last resort, she made herself completely lax, letting him swirl his tongue around her limp one.
The lack of response seemed to do the trick. He pulled away; their mouths connected by a string of saliva, of which he licked away.
"Mmm…play hard to get all you want," he told her, studying her glistening lips. "Stick t'a your morals if it helps you sleep at night. But make no mistake…the only way to get rid of me is to kill me."
One hand dove into his pocket and pulled out Jack. He gripped the knife by the blade and shoved the handle into her left hand, which ever so slowly was regaining the ability to move.
"Wrap your fingers around it."
She did so, brows nearly touching
"Got a good grip?" he confirmed
She nodded shakily; fingers nearly white around the handle.
"I'm gonna give ya a chance t'a get rid of me for good. Only one chance. Put Jack through my heart. It won't require much…and if ya have the gall to do it, I'll meet ya the rest of the way and push into it. Go ahead."
He had readjusted his body so only a couple of inches separated his chest from the tip of the blade.
"Tick-tock Celine," he reminded in response to her lack of movement. "You wanted to-."
Her hand swiftly shot up, the tip spearing him through his blue dress shirt. When she encountered skin, her strength wavered.
He looked down at the gash in his shirt.
"C'mon, c'mon, break through the skin. I'll lean the rest of the way in like a good boy."
There was no hint of fear present as he spoke of his potential demise. Yet again, he was provoking her. She almost wanted to stab him just to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face.
"I can't," she whispered, hand shaking.
"I know." He swiped Jack out of her hand and re-pocketed him. "You've made your bed, be prepared to lie in it."
Her eyes squeezed shut, but it wasn't fast enough to contain a stray tear.
His index finger brushed it away. She missed seeing him lick it off his glove.
"It's not so bad," he attempted to soothe, "you won't be alone in that bed. That's ah…more than can be said for most."
"P-please leave," she breathed out. "I just want to sleep."
"Such a conflicted bunny," he murmured, pecking her on her trembling lips. "I'll be seeing ya real soon."
As he lifted his upper body off her, she finally found the will to open her eyes. The black dahlia that'd been residing atop her chest had been crushed between their bodies, a few of the petals scattered along her hospital gown. Joker picked up what was left of the flower and moved off the bed, tucking the stem behind an ear. He then picked up the police hat and put it back on.
Wordlessly he moved to the door and took out a shank, sliding the tip into the hole of where the door handle used to be. He jimmied it a few times before a snap could resonate through the room. The door creaked open.
He picked up the cooler he'd brought and without sparing her a further glance, made his way out of the room, resuming his earlier whistling.
The encounter wore her out in more ways than one. She felt defeated. Like the control over her life had suddenly been hijacked by Joker.
Maybe Bruce and Wesley are right…I need to get out of Gotham. He's a wanted terrorist. There's no way he could board a plane and follow after me. It'd be nice to be away from this chaos for three months. Nice and peaceful and exciting and…
Her eyes flickered until she was out cold once more.
Difficult, difficult chapter to get out. Thank you for the continued support, I'm so happy y'all are enjoying this :)