Life and Death: Chapter 25

"There was a girl
A very strange, enchanted girl
They say she wandered very far
Very far, over land and sea"
Nature Girl - Cryoshell

The Joker stepped into a familiar room. It had been trashed, filled with overturned chairs and medical equipment as if everyone had left in a rush. He walked closer. There she was, lying on a medical table.

She was lifeless, an empty shell. Her face was white like the tiles on the walls; all color had bled into her hair and clothes and saturated the fabric. She was cold, mocking him with her lifelessness, like a cracked porcelain doll. For a moment hazy pictures sifted through his mind - it reminded him of the blueish color of her skin the first time he held her in his hands.

He pressed his fingers harshly against her throat. The room had a strange red haze and he tasted metal.

He found her heartbeat, at last, she couldn't trick him. It was so faint it was barely there, running away, escaping him. He wouldn't allow her to slip away, he would catch that sound. He ripped a piece of fabric from a coat, lifted her bloody head and it fell back limply against his arm.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," he breathed. He tied the fabric tightly around her head to stop the bleeding, slapping her cheek to try to rouse her, but she remained still. There was a familiar device next to her head, and he saw the electrodes that had been used, then the mark of a syringe on her arm.

This had not been the plan for her. The white-hot metallic taste grew stronger. Still in a reddish haze, he chased the disappearing sound of her life. She wasn't like her mother, you think so? I can take it, who had welcomed it all with a smile, not yet.

Harley stepped into the room, her eyes wide, but he spoke to her in a tone that she knew. "Get me a doctor, and hurry it up." He heard her turn and run.

He noticed the change in Jaylie before he consciously knew it; he had seen enough corpses.

She was dead.

Before he knew it, he was pressing down aggressively on her chest. From some shattered memories he didn't know he had, he still knew how to do it, the rhythm of the compressions. He couldn't see straight through the haze, only focused on her limp body underneath his hands, her ribs almost cracking. Some part of him knew it wouldn't be enough; her body needed more, she needed blood, or adrenaline, maybe an electric shock - he didn't have many options at hand. But he knew that the brain is the last part of the body to die. Her body might have given in, but her brain had not.

He knew she was in there, even though her heart had stopped.

"Don't you hide," he growled, his breath strained, with every push forcing the blood in her system to circulate. "Come on, come on."

As he tried to focus, his mind sucked him back in. Images flickered by, and he couldn't keep them at bay. Blasting from every angle, they filled his vision with every push of his hands.

There was a dark room, a naked room with tiles, and a single person restrained in a jacket. Rocking back and forth on a chair, his face was badly bruised, his eyes fighting against the heaviness of the sedatives. A woman in a white jacket reached out for him. He bared his teeth at her, wanting to rip her apart for standing there. Large tears rolled down her cheeks and she embraced him and held him to her chest. With a single word he made her fall to her knees in front of him, wiping her tears away and smiling up at him, promising revenge on everyone who had ever crossed him.

He saw a young boy crying at his lost balloon, then a teenager with dark hair wandering along the river, trying to find the bodies floating down there, calling their names. His hand around a switchblade in his pocket. Then, an adult man staring at himself in a cracked mirror, dragging his nails down his face.

A body hanging upside down, blood squeaking underneath his soles, the haze of a line of coke, the brutality, the dizziness, faces of strangers with red lips on their knees in front of him, gagging, Batsy, oh Batsy - the tearing of acid, picking his doctor up for a swim, spinning her around underneath glistening light. Fragments of his teeth in a river of mud, the swing of a crowbar in his hand, the sound of it hitting flesh. The feeling of slowly crushing bones. The sound of screams, Harley's vicious giggles, and a baby's cry. A thousand fragments, like a sudden migraine.

He was the executioner, the emperor, he was death and he was the world. The only one worthy of his attention used to be the Batman, because everyone else was simply so boring. Nowadays, there was always something to laugh about.

I'm just an idea, I'm a state of mind.

Then, another room. A single table in the middle of it and sharp lights illuminating the woman lying there. Harley, smiling so wide her lips almost broke. He held something in his hands and the silence was heavier than the room. They waited together, for any sound that would tell them the truth, that the thing wasn't breathing. They were death, and death was all they got. It wasn't supposed to ever come a heartbeat out of all this, but Harley had kept it safe long enough.

And then the thing in his hands had taken her first breath and almost choked on it. Harley had laughed, then cried, and then laughed some more.

Now, that was a joke with a punchline.

.

He wasn't aware of what he was doing, maniacally forcing her heart to beat, until he heard her sudden, sharp intake, faint like a shudder. He leaned in to listen to her breathing, feeling for her pulse. She wouldn't die on him, no, she knew better than to disappoint him like that.

Her eyes slowly opened, glazed over. He recognized that look well, the haze of blood loss. His thumb stroked some reddened strands of hair from her face as he looked into her eyes.

"Wakey, wakey," he breathed. Wake up, Alice.

It was like the first time she opened her eyes and saw him, challenging him with that look that wasn't scared. She didn't even know that she should be - she had watched him the same way he watched her, back then. It was as if she had been passively studying the cellar she was born in, with his love of sharp lights and operation settings, unaware of the fact that he didn't need to do more than press his thumb against her throat if her life didn't interest him enough, if it didn't fit into his plan. It was all up to him. Even back then she didn't fear death, aside from those instinctive little gasps she took to keep herself alive, and that was funny.

Drowsily her gaze moved towards the ceiling, the hint of a smile on her pale lips. He growled, trying to capture her gaze again, but her eyelids fell shut again.

Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She was too cold and reeked of rust, and while he liked the smell, it just wouldn't do. He tore out a couple of sheets and blankets from a nearby cabinet, wrapped her up in them and placed her back on the medical table. At the same time, Harley returned with a terrified doctor and two of their hired guards.

"Pack your bags, Doc, she needs a transfusion," he said as Harley threw herself over Jaylie, hugging her through the blankets, sobbing, close to hysteria.

"We- we can't-" The doctor tried to formulate her words, surrounded by the guards who pushed her forward. "I don't have-"

"Oh, you do," the Joker said, his smile a feral grimace. He wiped his bloody hands on her coat. "You solve it."

.

.

The safehouse had not been used for years. It wasn't one of their favorites, but it had space for a few bedrooms and a place to keep the doctor locked in. It was located only ten minutes from Arkham, making it the fastest option after they left the building and got to the getaway car.

Jaylie lay unmoving on the bed in one of the rooms. Only the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor gave away the fact that she was still alive.

"Baby," Harley whispered, lying next to her. She traced the blue shadows underneath her eyes, then the new scar forming on her cheek. "When you were small, I always listened to your breathin'. Your tiny chest moving, all those little breaths you took. Come back, Pumpkin Pie. Mommy won't let you slip away again."

To fill out the silence, she kept talking. "I used to have a hamster. Or maybe 'twas a tame rat. I tried to keep it alive but I think I forgot to feed it for, like a month –" She grimaced and smiled a little. "And then my goldfish died too. I nevah, evah thought I could keep a baby alive. But you lived. And you're still alive, right!"

She pulled up her own t-shirt and looked at the old horizontal scar along her lower belly, where the skin was lighter than the rest, a tiny ridge that never disappeared, leaving a mark in just below her Lucky You tattoo. A clean, skilled cut from Mistah J – the thought always brought messy butterflies to her stomach, for his precision when he wanted to.

She carefully inched closer the best she could without disrupting the tubes that were attached to Jaylie and held her close to her chest. She remembered it faintly somehow, that you were supposed to keep small children close to your skin so they would feel safe. So she did that, surrounding her with her body heat.

"You're home now, baby," Harley whispered against her skin, her hands tightening around her. "Mommy won't let you go."

Only the steady beeping answered her. She looked up when the Joker entered the room.

He stood beside the bed, watching them for a moment. They were both too tense and tired to joke around; Harley had spent the last six hours next to Jaylie and he had to force her to back off when the doctor gave her the transfusion. He had been busy ever since they got back, arranging things and sending a few men to break Frost out of prison – good help was hard to find and that one had a multitude of uses. His brain was still high-wired for action; he barely felt hunger or exhaustion, except for the haze around him increasing.

He sat down on the other side of Jaylie, resting against the headboard. He flicked on the TV screen on the wall. It showed the same twisted family cartoon they used to watch sometimes in the afternoons or late mornings, in downtimes between club business and schemes. Jaylie wasn't particularly interested in it, but she would pretend to be sometimes. Harley liked to watch anything colorful that moved.

Silent moments went by, his mind drifted. Harley soon fell asleep, and he found himself reaching out to touch her face. She was real. He pulled Jaylie closer to his body, to aid her with his own body heat – she was still cold, like a corpse with a heartbeat.

Her forehead scrunched up. Whatever she had been injected with would wear off, eventually.

"Wake up, princess," he mumbled, letting his fingers sweep across her face, the fresh scars. "Found your way out of the rabbit hole yet, hmm?"

Watching her breathe, he waited. She stirred again, then made a movement as if she wanted to trash away from him, but couldn't.

"Shhh," he told her, resting her against his chest as he let his attention shift back to the muted screen and the parody of a family playing out. Yet, two days straight awake had taken its toll and he found himself allowing to slip, ever so slightly; the haze of exhaustion slowly came closer. He let his body relax slightly, aided by the weight of her next to him, and dozed off.

He was snapped out of his sleep by Harley, who leaned over to kiss him. He didn't resist, purring quietly as her lips molded against him. He adjusted Jaylie's body to rest on the pillows next to him, creating space between them as Harley slipped over to his side and straddled him. He tipped his head backwards as she kissed his throat, restraining a low groan. Harley's soft breathing tickled his neck. Her scent, her soft touch after all these months sparked something carnal deep within him.

"I've missed you so much," she mumbled against his mouth. He tightened his hand in her hair to kiss her back more forcefully, his fingers massaging her scalp.

Jaylie mumbled something in her sleep. They turned to see her hand twitching, and her head moving a bit. Harley's hand stilled in his hair and she climbed off his lap to sit next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. Together they waited for her to make her appearance.

"What if she doesn't come back?" Harley whispered, clutching his leg. "Sometimes they get confused, they don't remember anythin'…"

"If she's anything like Harleen, she will," he said. It was a promise as much as a threat.

Jaylie's hand stilled. She squeezed her eyes shut once, then slowly opened them.

With a squeal Harley moved over to wrap her arms around her, tugging a bit at the tubes and making Jaylie grimace before she adjusted her hold. The Joker turned to sit in front of them. He settled one hand at the back of her head, and they looked at her.

Jaylie's eyes were wide.

"Good morning, baby!" Harley planted a big kiss on her forehead.

"That's... not my name," she protested sleepily.

"Then, who are you?" The Joker asked, his smile stretching into an anticipating grin.

She studied their faces for a few moments, without blinking. She reminded him of Harley's first moments after the deep dive, searching for something to hold on to. She was his most interesting creation, something he had crafted from the ground, evolving into something bigger. He pulled them both closer, watching her watching him.

She was about to say something before she drifted off again.

.

.

She had been floating in and out of the darkness for hours before she noticed that someone was tending to her, a stranger in a bloody white coat that instinctively made her flinch before she heard a familiar voice in her ear, chirping, a hand on top of her forehead. She knew that soft voice, Mommy. She smelled different, but she was there. Jaylie still tried to keep up her guard, but the ache across her head was too heavy, made her yearn to sink back into the soft darkness. Her eyesight was hazy and it was so much easier to sleep. But there was a different kind of silence inside of her head.

Someone offered water to drink and then she could float away again, comforted by Mommy's voice, it's just a doctor, baby. She'll go away soon.

In the hazy dream, she remembered the first time she encountered a doctor – it happened very rarely. There was always someone nearby who knew how to tend to a bullet wound or stitch up skin.

She was five years old again, her body covered by a red, aching rash, fever making her body warm. She had stuffed herself underneath the couch, lying flat against the floor closest to the wall and watching the stranger suspiciously.

The man was led into the room by two henchmen, looking anxiously around himself. "Where are you taking me? Where is the child?"

"Oh, she's here alright," The Joker said.

"Come out, Puddin' Pie!" Harley chirped, looking around.

The Joker slowly wandered around the room before stopping in front of the couch. She pulled herself closer to the wall, hammer in her hand, silent as a mouse.

She wasn't prepared for him suddenly reaching out and pulling her out, with a firm grip around her ankle – despite her clawing at the fabric and struggling with all her might to stay underneath it. She latched onto it but he managed to haul her body out and lifted her up, while she hissed and kicked.

"Let me go," she breathed but he simply hoisted her over his shoulder, ignoring her resistance as he carried her over to the doctor and unceremoniously dumped her on the floor in front of him, blocking her way from trying to run back. She bared her teeth and hissed at the terrified man in front of her, pushing back against the Joker's legs as she struggled to regain her balance.

"Now, now, tiger," he said, his hand heavy on the top of her head, pushing her down to sit. A clear warning. She stilled, tense and grasping her hammer, crouched on the floor.

"Has she had any vaccination at all?" The doctor asked questions, kneeling down in front of her.

"No."

The man looked as if he was about to argue, but changed his mind. When he reached out for her she made a movement to bite him and he pulled his hand back. The Joker chuckled above her. "Watch out, the little piranha has sharp teeth."

"Is she around other children a lot?"

"Didn't you play with Fleshie's kids last week?" Harley said.

She saw the Joker lean forward, his face a grimace. "I just wanna know, Doc, why she's all… spotted." He gestured at her arms, the itching wounds where she had scratched the skin, bleeding in some places, making dark dots appear on her dress. She scratched it absent-mindedly, glaring.

"It looks like chickenpox, but since she's susceptible to illness, I need to take a blood test to be sure," the doctor said. She bared her teeth. When the man came closer, she struck. She remembered her teeth buried in his hand, his loud scream, and her parents laughing.

She wanted to stay in this dream, curl up in Mommy's lap afterward, feeling her holding a cool cloth against her face to soothe the heat, hearing her talk cheerful nonsense. She was just an ordinary child with chickenpox, in the arms of an ordinary mother, with a father who liked to play Russian Roulette with a full chamber on people wearing white coats.

.

.
.

"This place is dull." Harley glared the naked window. The blinders were shut, only letting a few rays of daylight into the small makeshift hospital room.

"Don't ya think we should spice up this place, Puddin'? Whoever you hired did a lousy job." The Joker rolled his eyes, standing by the far end of the wall, tapping on his phone while keeping an eye on the doctor.

Jaylie sat upright in the bed, pale and silent as the Arkham doctor checked her blood pressure and pulse. The doctor nervously glanced back at them as she worked, then back at Jaylie. She hadn't even flinched when she stuck a needle in her arm for the blood test, but at least her body was stable enough to do without the heart surveillance.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked Jaylie. When she got no answer, she looked up. "She might be suffering from short-term memory loss. It's too early to say if it's going to be long term – she's so young. It's normal to feel confused, stiff and sore after electroshock therapy – "

"I know," Harley snapped. She leaned forward and captured Jaylie's face in her hands, kissing the top of her head. "No one's ever gonna hurt you again, baby."

"She's also malnourished – she needs vitamins and minerals. I don't know how her blood levels are until I can get the test analyzed - "

J detached from the wall and walked over, making the woman tense up. "I think your work here is done, Doc."

"Just let me analyze the test," the woman offered, trying to buy time. J shrugged, as one of the hired goons came to lead her out of the room.

"I'm thinking red and blue for our room, whaddya think?" Harley latched onto his arm. When she got no response she turned to Jaylie again. "I'm gonna go get us some movies and takeaway. Be right back." She blew them both a kiss and skipped out of the room.

"Lou," Jaylie said quietly. She made a movement to get out of bed but he wagged his finger. "You're on bed rest. Move and I'll tie you up."

She looked blankly at him and simply pulled her legs over the edge of the bed, but he approached her with an oh really? look, already picking up a tie from a nearby drawer and testing the strength of it. She decided to not test her luck – she was sound enough to come to the conclusion that she couldn't get away from him in this state, and he would definitely hold her down and tie her up if she tried.

With a pout she fell back into the pillows, her eyes suddenly ablaze with silent fuming – ah, there she was, his doll. He chuckled at her indignation, leaning over her to press his face against her hair. She didn't smell like blood anymore – Harley and the doc had washed her.

"Where's Lou?" she asked, tense.

He tilted her head up to study her face, the new scars giving her face a different look. His thumb stroked her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

"We'll find him. Anything else ya remember in that itty bitty brain of yours, hmm?"

Her brows furrowed together as she thought. He watched her struggle to connect the pieces, and the metallic taste in his mouth returned. When he found out where the rest of the Arkham inmates had been relocated he would go down there, and he would make it worth the while. Being copped up here with temporary goons and a doctor he didn't trust was driving him up the wall. He ground his teeth for a moment – if only good ol' Johnny was here to keep everyone in check. He couldn't dispose of the doctor yet, and he wasn't about to leave Harley to her own devices right now. She was completely immersed in playing house again.

The same old annoyance was there – sometimes he remembered, hazily, a time when it was only him. He didn't have to think all the time about where Harley was, and then, where Jaylie was, and if they had got themselves into another situation. The things I do for you, he thought.

She was different, something had changed in her eyes. The Joker knew well that no one came out the same after having their grey matter churned, especially not when it was done with the intent to kill as many cells as possible. He held her gaze, a reflection of his own, as she stared back.

"... I met my brother."

His hand tightened underneath her chin. "What happened before that?"

She shook her head slightly, and suddenly her eyes glazed over and she blinked. "I felt... warm. I was in a room..."

He pulled back, and he didn't know what his face showed. "You died."

"But I lived." She looked calmly back at him, not fazed by this information - of course, she wasn't. She didn't fear death any more than her mother did. He laughed at that.

He couldn't wait to see what she would be like.

TO BE CONTINUED. If you're reading this story, be sure to leave me a review! It makes me update faster & means a lot to me.