Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC. All other characters belong to DC COMICS
Chapter Sixteen
"It's the slow knife..."
/
If anyone had told her previously that her day would end in a full on make out session with the Joker, Charlotte would've laughed so hard that wetting herself would be plausible. Her fingers stayed clutched to her raw lips as she tried to stop her thoughts. Clearly, it wasn't working.
Charlotte tried to do a play-by-play of her memory, but all she could remember was the strange feeling of the Joker's rough lips crashing against hers. The feeling...the taste. It was like nothing she'd never experienced. And one of them had been bleeding, she remembered, tongue twisting in her mouth as she remembered the rusty tang of what could only be blood.
Had she even kissed him back? Charlotte didn't remember any of that, really. She couldn't even remember when he'd pulled away, but she did know that they'd stayed together for a very long time, pushing and tugging and pulling at each others bodies until there was no air left to breathe. Everytime they'd pull away, they'd just end up crashing together even closer than before. Until finally, he'd thrown her wordlessly and unceremoniously from the room and slammed the metal door in her face. And that was that.
Charlotte's feet were bleeding. She winced as she slowly slipped off her socks. Popped blisters were the least of her problem. Charlotte paused for a moment, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. The lighting in the small stall-like room projected a light glow atop of her head. It had been a while since Charlotte had looked at herself in a mirror. She stared blankly at her sickly reflection, wondering how long she'd looked like this. Her sunken eyes were surrounded by dark circles. It didn't help that her complexion was starchy white, making her eyes look like two bruises. Charlotte's empty eyes traveled down the rest of her face, glancing her swollen red lips before her eyes trailed down to the fresh mark at the side of her neck. The Joker had drawn blood this time. Charlotte figured that it was a problem that it didn't bother her - that as far as she remembered she'd wretchedly enjoyed it. It was a problem, the proof of which would probably last way longer than her previous ones. The rest of her frame looked skeletal as she removed her clothing. Charlotte looked up at her face one last time before going over to the scalding hot bathtub and submerging herself within it. Charlotte's eyes opened again as her head floated beneath the surface. The water burned, but it felt good. Charlotte's lips opened slightly, letting the hot water enter her mouth.
It was funny to her, really, in an ironic way - that she was beginning to look like him.
/
The Joker let out a stream of bullets into the underside of his mahogany desk seconds after he'd kicked it over, hard. The rage of what he'd just done wouldn't seem to leave him. He hated that stupid...that insufferable...
The Joker let out a stream of unintelligible words and curses as he shot some more holes into his desk. He'd wanted to go out and strangle something - or someone- but because of the dwindling number of goons he had left after that disasterous hold-up earlier, he couldn't really afford to be spilling blood where it didn't need to be spilled...for once. The ache for feeling the warm red liquid slipping and sliding through his fingers, would just have to be sated some other time. Until then, the Joker had settled for destroying his office. Maps and blueprints had been ripped, knives had been thrown, and furniture had been broken...but...nothing. No feeling of relief, no feeling of comfort or power greeted him after.
He needed something to reciprocate with him. Or try to. That, was the fun part.
The Joker paused, realizing he had no bullets left. He tossed the useless gun to the side, cursing. There was clearly nothing else to destroy here. For a moment, he thought of just setting the whole place up in flames, but where else would he go when he needed a place to escape from his idiot goons? The Joker, unable to simply stay put and dwell on his rage, fished through his waistcoat for his Escalade keys. He bit into his scars roughly, the tangy taste satisfying him.
Keys twirling in hand, the Joker left the warehouse briskly, wondering what type of trouble he could find at this time of night.
Month
Things went back to their normal routine soon enough. Well, as normal as they could get when you had a secret warehouse being run by a madman. The Joker and Charlotte didn't quite speak. In fact, they didn't even look at each other, due to the fact that Charlotte never left her room. The new warehouse was much smaller than the previous one. While Charlotte's room was practically identical to her old one, the other warehouse had been more open. She'd felt more free there. Ha, that was a funny word to use...
Free.
The knock on Charlotte's door startled her more than it should have.
"Miss?" Charlie/Chuckles' familiar voice rang out from the other side of the closed door. "Are you awake? I need to come in."
Charlotte tried to clear her throat as best as she could before uttering a weak "come in". Her voice felt strange and unused - like she hadn't properly spoken in weeks.
Perhaps she hadn't.
Chuckles/Charlie emerged slowly, entering her room quietly. He left the door open just a crack. "Hello," he said rather cheerfully. Charlotte paused for a moment, slightly thrown off at his kindness. Not that he'd ever been mean to her, but it was sort of strange the way he treated her somewhat cordially. After all, she had stabbed him with a pair of scissors and nearly broken his nose once.
"Uh...Hi,"Charlotte said as approached her bed. Charlie didn't miss the way her eyes shifted from him to the door warily. He hadn't seen her around much. At all, really. Charlie tried to smile, the poor girl looked petrified. She'd practically never left her room since the 'incident'. And when the Joker was around, it was as if Charlotte had never even existed. What was the point, he wondered?
"How are you?" He asked, sort of genuinely interested. Charlotte's brows creased slightly. No one had asked her that in a very long time. It was such a cordial, casual, polite thing to say. It definitely wasn't expected at a place like this. Charlotte, still not used to using her voice again, only shrugged back at Charlie/Chuckles. Seeing that today was not a day to try and actually hold a conversation with the uneasy girl, Charlie reached into his back pocket and gave her what he'd come in here for in the first place.
"Here," he said, tossing a leather bound notebook onto her bed. "Found this lying around in an old cupboard. You don't look like you have much to do up here...so I figured -"
"Did he tell you to come give this to me?" Charlotte suddenly snapped. Her eyes looked a little more alive now. "Because if he did, you can take it back and tell him I say that he can just shove it straight up his -"
"Up his what?" Charlie chuckled, playing off of Charlotte's faltering sentence. Charlotte reclined deeper into her bed, knees coming up to her chin.
"Whatever, nevermind. Thanks for the gift. I know he really doesn't care enough to do something like that, so..."
Charlotte's eyes left Charlie and settled up to the bland ceiling above her. She didn't expect Charlie/Chuckles to say anything back. It wasn't his job to, anyways.
"He does care," Charlie responded later, mumbling more than anything. Still, Charlotte heard it. She wasn't able to help when her head tilted to meet Charlie's gaze. Charlotte looked indignant, and instantly Charlie knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Well, think of it this way - he wouldn't have kept you around here as long as he has if you didn't have a purpose."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed at the man in front of her, unable to believe the foolish words coming out his mouth.
"Having a purpose doesn't always make you important." Charlotte replied quietly.
The conversation ended right then and there, but as Charlie left the room, he couldn't deny that the girl had a point.
/
Days blurred together now. Often times, Charlotte would wake up at odd hours, not knowing what day or time it was. It was easier for her to forget now - and she found herself often wondering if what had happened had been yesterday, or the day before that. Events didn't really matter anymore, because there were none. The Joker kept quiet about his plans and operations lately, so they weren't easy to see. Not that Charlotte had known much since the beginning anyways - she still didn't even know why she was here, or what her purpose was - but now, as she'd watch the goons go about their business moving heavy umarked boxes to and fro everyday, it was even harder to figure out what could possibly be going on in such a crazy place.
Charlotte had only seen the Joker three times since the fiasco that had ensued when she'd tried to escape. Well, maybe she'd only seen in twice. The quick purple whip of his tailcoat as he'd passed by her room a few days ago hardly counted as a view. Plus, it'd been late and Charlotte had been groggy. To her knowledge, it was quite possible that there hadn't been anyone there at all.
/
Apparently, trouble had a name.
Harley.
"Misterrrr J," Harley purred from the darkness, rolling her words so that his name sounded more like "Jay" rather than the actual letter. Her faux little Jersey Italian accent made him want to vomit. The Joker could tell it was all just a facade. It wasn't entirely appealing, but what could he say? She was a cute little thing. Cute, but stupid. Blind.
"What." He said briskly, not stopping his stroll as he passed the alleyway that Harley was leaning in. Upon seeing him, Harley skipped out of the alleyway, trailing behind Joker lightly. The Joker didn't need to look back, he knew he'd find her simpering after him, glassy blue eyes wide with nothing but intimidation and adoration. The Joker sucked his teeth. Adoration was a stupid thing, it did nothing but get you hurt.
"It's been a while, huh?" She asked sweetly, her shapely legs trying to their best to keep up with the Joker's long strides. The clip-clopping of her boots irked the Joker to no end.
"Not now, Harley." The Joker responded, already catching onto her suggestive tone. 'And probably not ever again,' he thought. He could hear her little breaths practically hitting his shoulder as she scampered after him like a hopeless puppy. It was disgusting. Harley huffed, whining a little in the back of her throat.
"Aw, c'mon!" She whined, moving to grab hold of his left shoulder, trying to slow him down. "I'm sure I could make it worth your while! -"
The Joker turned just as her index finger brushed his coat, catching her wrist in a tight grasp. The young woman let out a painful whine, clearly stunned. Who was he kidding, she liked it. The Joker's visage was poisonous, eyes glaring at her so darkly that she clearly shrunk under his gaze. He analyzed her appearance. She was wearing some gaudy red and black get up with garters and see through tights. Too flashy for his taste tonight. With her high sloppy pigtails, the Joker couldn't help but think she looked like a slutty four year old.
"Y'know, Harl...I'm not sure you could," Joker growled, squeezing her wrist even harder so that the leather on his fingers squeaked against her bones. Harley seemed to curl back at the meaness of his words. They seemed to cause her more pain than her crushed fingers. She was fully aware there was a darkness in him, something so mean that he'd never change, but still, she was drawn to him. So when he grabbed her wrist like that, she couldn't exactly decide if the pain was pleasurable or not. The Joker stared down at the shorter girl, taking her all in. Platinum blonde hair, pouty red lips, and big, blue, babydoll eyes surrounded with thick black makeup that was surely days old.
Oh, but her ignorance definitely blinded her beauty, he'd decided.
The Joker grabbed her throat roughly, moving to shove her up against the red brick wall behind them. It wasn't too shocking, this was the way things had been the first and only night he'd ever associated himself intimately with her. The only time he would ever, ever associate with a woman like herself.
The night Charlotte had come back, come back to him screaming and soaked to the bone in rainwater. The night they'd...
The Joker's jaw clenched as he squeezed Harley's neck tighter, her pulse banging against his gloved fingertips. He'd had to go out that night, before he did something drastic to his Doll. He hadn't meant to kiss her that night - he rarely ever meant to do anything around her these days - but who could resist when she'd finally cracked at the seams, in front of him, most importantly?
All for him.
Destroying his office hadn't sated him - not even close - and so, he'd led himself out into the streets...And collided straight into this beauty in front of him. Now, contrary to popular belief, the Joker was still a man...with needs. Who was he to deny himself to letting off a little steam once in a while? Sex was nothing compared to the thrill of a kill, and for the sake of himself he still couldn't figure out why he hadn't just killed Harley after it...He just hadn't.
But that had been his mistake. He'd seen the goo-goo eyes Harley had given him and knew immediately that something was off with her. Well, more off than your regular prostitute. Since that night, he'd seen Harley slinking outside his place of operations, hoping for another go - and the Joker didn't like that. Not. One. Bit.
In many ways, killing her was sort of a waste. Gotham was running low on beautiful women lately, what with rape, murder, and kidnapping at an all time high. And, she sort of looked like Charlotte - what with the blonde hair and blue eyes. They had the same nose, sorta.
'Oh well,' the Joker thought flippantly before twisting his wrist, ready to snap her neck at a good angle that would result in a nice, sickening crunch. He hadn't heard the warning signs, not from behind him or the woman in his grasp.
Within seconds, perhaps even faster than that, the Joker found himself flying. The large resounding thud his body made as it slammed against the brick wall meters away vibrated through his body, setting his nerves on fire. Although groggy, it didn't take him long to realize who'd just given him a little taste of the delicious beating he was about to recieve. He could hear Harley's screams echoing between the alley walls, the sharp sound of her hooker heels clacking like whip snaps as she ran away.
Batman.
"You guessed right," the Caped Crusader growled back, emerging from the darkness that hid him so well. The Joker growled preparingly, spitting blood. He hadn't realized he'd said that out loud. The Joker laughed gruffly as he brought himself to his knees. He glanced up at the Bat, bloody grin shining.
"So what is it this time? Christmas can't have, uh, come early. My guess is ya missed me?"
"Not quite, Clown." Batman responded, swiftly grabbing Joker by the collar and roughly hoisting him up. The sight really was something to see -Batman suspending the Joker's weight with the power of one wrist, the man's grey suede shoes hanging inches off the floor. The Joker's head lolled back as he pretended to choke against the tightness of his own collar. Without fail, the Bat immediately loosened his grip by the tiniest of a fraction, nontheless still giving the Joker room to strike.
"Gotcha!" The Joker hissed happily, jamming his knife in between the armored panels of Batman's suit, straight into his gut. Both men growled in unison, as Joker sent a harsh kick into Batman's groin and an elbow to the mans face. Satisifed, the Joker wriggled out of the man's chokehold, spitting out more blood once he was on the ground. Crouched like a predator ready to strike, the Joker smiled, anticipating Batsy's next attack.
Let the games begin.
/
The games ended even faster than they'd began.
At first, it'd been easy for the Joker to get in some good vengeful blows, but Batsy had truly surprised him this time. And nothing screamed surprise like a stab between the ribs.
The Joker grinned gruesomely as he stumbled down the street, hand pressing down onto his gushing wound. The usual pleasure from pain wasn't present anymore - it felt sickly. He wasn't exactly sure how much blood he had lost, or how much was currently sliding wetly down his vest and pant legs - but his vision was starting to blur, and that was not a good sign. He'd felt the sharp batarang pierce through his vest - the point scraping against the bone before he got the chance to yank the little sucker out.
Fucking batarangs...really Batman? What was next?
At least it'd been a thrill, he'd been deprived of a fight with his lovely masked comrade for the longest time. It was just more fun when he could focus on the fight rather than the shocking amount of blood squirting profusely out of his fucking wound. Of course, he was 'thankful' to have gotten away - but the Bat had practically let him get away, and that, well...that pissed him off to no end.
Didn't he care? Some small part of the man's brain wondered, gritting his teeth as he clambered up the stairs to the hideout, barking at several goons to leave him the fuck alone for the night or else. The Joker didn't like having his blood spilt, he realized. But when it belonged to others...well, then it didn't really matter, did it? Not in the big scale of things.
The Joker ignored Charlie as he shoved past him. He knew Char would be in her room.
He needed that first aid kit.
/
Charlotte's eyes opened abruptly at the sound of the door being slammed back on it's hinges. Her eyes squinted at the harsh flourescent lighting that entered the dark room, but she didn't miss the dark figure standing starkly in the middle of the door.
Standing there, shoulders hunched nearly up to his ears and head bowed, was the Joker. He was staring her down like he wanted to rip her apart, and Charlotte couldn't find the courage to do anything besides pull her bedsheet up to her chest. She was fully dressed, making her action seem silly...but the way he was staring at her was unnerving. The Joker stood there for a moment, blocking a majority of the outside light source. He didn't turn on the light switch in her room, which she found odd. And what time was it?
She'd been about to ask him when she realized the dark puddle beginning to pool around his shoes. Oh, so that would explain why he was panting like he'd just run a mile.
"Oh God," Charlotte whispered, springing out of her bed so fast she nearly tripped. She knew why he was here...
The first aid kit! But oh god, where had she put it!? Looking frantically for it, she didn't sense when the Joker came up to stand behind her. At the light fanning of his breath against her ear, Charlotte backed up against him in surprise, causing him to hiss and place a hand on her shoulder, gripping it for all she was worth. A silent warning to hurry up.
"Bathroom," She muttered, shifting slightly under his hold, not sure if he'd let her maneuver them. He did, to her surprise. In between the small struggled paces that it took to get to her room's bathroom, Charlotte realized that the Joker was holding her the way he was because he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. A slight pang of something strange burned in her chest as she thought of this, but she wasted no time on it. The Joker's blood had made a small splattered trail to the bathroom, which Charlotte was sure was only a start to the crime scene her bathroom would resemble when they were finished.
Ignoring Charlotte's plea for him to sit down on the toilet seat, the Joker used one arm to hold himself up against the shower curtain rail.
Charlotte's hands were trembling horribly as she opened the first aid kit, which convieniently enough had been resting on the sink. Charlotte's eyes met the Joker's once she finally managed to shakily thread the needle. As she moved hesitantly to fix his wound, which could clearly be seen through large rip in his green vest, the Joker growled and caught her wrist.
"Not so fast," He said harshly. Charlotte stared up at him confusedly as he began to unbutton his vest, throwing it into the bathtub behind him before moving on to his patterned to his shirt. And the wifebeater beneath that. Charlotte's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't control her eyes or her blood as it rushed hotly to her neck and chest. She'd obviously seen quite a few men shirtless before - the male body wasn't special or strange to her...but she hadn't expected the Joker to remove his clothing in front of her. Or anyone.
Ever.
He was always so mysterious, and the fact that she could now picture what he looked like beneath the unbearably striking purple coat and bizzarre outfit took something away from that mystery. It made him a little more...human. And that was entirely morbid to Charlotte, for in that moment the Joker seemed incredibly real to her. She didn't know if she'd be able to handle that he was in fact a man under all that costume and clown makeup. A man that bled, slept, breathed...simply a mortal despite his threatening demigod status.
It was like trying to put together two puzzle pieces that clearly didn't match by smashing them against each other.
His body was a surprise. She'd known he'd be lean and strong, but his body looked nearly immovable. No, there wasn't an overwhelming amount of muscle - but it was all strength. Charlotte's eyes traveled slowly down his body without realization. Charlotte took it all in. The sinewy, lean, muscles of his arms and forearms, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his broadness tapered in at his hips, the light sprinkling of light hair across the expanse of his chest, then the slightly darker line of hair that traveled from his navel and dissappeared beneath his belt buckle. She found herself gazing at the way his blood seeped down the lean, hard flesh of his abdomen. Charlotte wondered how he was slightly tan when his body practically never left that purple suit...
The Joker chuckled gruffly for a moment before wincing in pain. "Uh, see something you like, Doll?"
Charlotte's eyes narrowed defiantly, trying to distract the Joker from the blush that was flooding her cheeks. She tried, even though she knew he never missed a damn thing.
"Don't flatter yourself," Charlotte muttered before dousing his wound in alcohol.
YOU GUYS! Man, have I missed this. I know it's been such a long time since I last updated...and for that I am terribly sorry! I hope you all found other stories to quench that Joker thirst (who are we kidding, it's never enough with this guy!). No but seriously, it feels so good to be back. Long story short, I am in my final year of college and things have been crazy schedule wise, and so I haven't had any time to be alone and write. Another thing is that I actually had so many more chapters of this written on an old laptop that I left at home (across the united states from my college) and finally got the chance to transfer all my stuff! I have all of the chapters ready to edit, so I hope to get them up here soon...That is if any of you would still like to read them. I feel like so much has happened with the Joker since I went on hiatus, cough cough SUICIDE SQUAD! Which I actually saw last night and gave me the inspiration I needed to start writing again...When I first saw Jared's interpretation I HATED IT but I'm going to keep an open mind towards it...If Heath were still here, I think that's what he would've wanted. Heath will always be my favorite joker and this fic will always be based on him! I loved Margot Robbie as Harley and I'm so excited she's getting a solo film! What do you guys think? Ironic that this new update has a little Harley in it as well, although I'd written this more than a year ago. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this. Please review to let me know I still have readers! I'd love to hear from you all, and thank you to those who have stuck around and urged me to keep writing - even in my absence. I've missed you guys so much! Let's get this thing going again (:
