I arrived at Arkham in record time, and reported into the patient interview room within minutes of getting there. I felt a little shaky, but knew I needed to keep my composure. If you're a woman working in one of these places, you had to have a good pokerface.
"...really, coppers, he was quite a pain in my neck," I heard Joker say as I entered the room.
His eyes snapped towards me and his smile widened. "Ahh... There you are."
He looked at the two guards in the room and shooed them with his cuffed hands.
"You two can run along and frisk other 'patients.' We'll be fine."
Of course, Lyle Bolton was there to make things more than fun. He stared at me with his large arms crossed over his chest.
"The clown killed one of our best god damn doctors, Morgan!" he said in a raised voice. "You said your treatments were working!"
"They have been," I replied in a calm tone. "And if you could speak in a calm voice in front of my patient, it would be appreciated. Being riled up does not help his situation."
"His situation?! What about Dr. Murray's situation? In case you forgot, Morgan, the man is dead because of this freak."
"I'm not a freak..." Joker mumbled. "No, I'm not. No, I'm not."
"Officers, if you two could please leave the room so I could speak to my patient in private, it would be appreciated."
Lyle and an officer whose face I didn't recognize stepped out of the room, Lyle huffing and puffing the whole time. After the door closed, I took a seat across the table from Joker.
"So?" he said after a few moments.
"So what?" I asked dully.
"Did you like my gift?" he asked eagerly.
"No," I responded. "You can't kill innocent people like that. We've been over this - don't you remember?"
"Oh, I remember lots of things we've been over." He leaned forward, his eyebrow cocking. "I remember some very interesting sessions we've had over this last month."
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes.
"Y'know, this was part of the art therapy you mentioned. Too bad you didn't look at my card. It was a portrait of your beloved with a machete in his neck."
"This doesn't somehow reflect Dr. Murray's death, does it?"
"Completely coincidental." He leaned back in his chair, his curtain of brownish-green hair flopping into his eyes. "Hear anything more from my pal L? He's been keeping a watch on your squeeze."
"No, I have not. Would you please tell me why you killed Dr. Murray?"
"That's a hard story to get into, Doc. See, I like it here for the most part - food's okay, roof over my head... lovely company," he said, his hands motioning towards me. "But some of these goons just won't leave me alone. They deserve what they get."
"How did Dr. Murray deserve to die? Married for fifteen years, has three children under the age of twelve. He was a good man."
"You look, but you don't see!" he said in a louder volume than his previous sentences, making me jump. "Dr. Murray has been talking about you... Trying to make an attempt to take over for you. They want to separate us - that can't happen."
"I don't want us to be separated either, and I doubt that will happen. Listen, you can't attack and kill others. It's only going to keep setting us back with your treatment," I said gently.
He stared at me with hooded eyes.
"He's said vulgar things about you, Lainey. He's been having an affair with one of the nurses. I hear things. I know what's going on around here."
That's not too surprising. Murray has always been a bit of a weasel.
Ahh, how we have to play the empathy game so much... It gets so tiring.
Before I could reply, Lyle buzzed himself in.
"A word, Dr. Morgan," he said in his gruff tone.
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes and exited the room with him.
"You're off his case," he said as soon as the door shut.
I felt my stomach drop.
No. No, no, no... I can't be. Yeah, he's a fucking nutball, but he's the highlight of my week.
"Why?" I asked, trying to show very little concern.
"Because shit like this keeps happening, Morgan!" he borderline yelled. "I just spoke to Dr. Arkham. Dr. Strange will take over from here."
"Dr. Strange? Yeah, that's going to go over really well. I've had patients who've been with him in the past and they all said he was awful. Hypnosis? Do they really think that's going to work on my patient?"
"He's not your patient any more. I'm going to take him back to his cell, and I'm going to let you tell him you've been taken off his case, and let you deal with the repercussions of your poor therapy methods. Go there now while I haul the clown back to his cage." He buzzed himself back into the room while I stood there, ready to foam at the mouth.
As much as I like Ivy, Joker is my favorite patient. I don't understand why, and it makes me feel so frustrated. I feel so angry, and I shouldn't. Putting aside the publicity for taking on such a high-profile criminal and a shot at a very nice pay raise, I should be relieved to be off his case.
I walked into Joker's cell, which was left unguarded (which was against protocol; good job, Lyle) and sat down in the chair near his bed. He was sitting on the end of his bed, watching me with those captivating, chocolatey orbs.
"I'm being taken off your case," I said with the least amount of emotion I could muster. "You're being reassigned to Dr. Strange."
"Strange?" he replied in disbelief. "Yeah, and I'm Professor Giggles."
I stared at him dully.
"They can't separate us," he said, standing up suddenly. "No... No!"
He punched the wall a few times, his face twisted in rage.
Remain calm...
"I don't want us to be separated, either. I told you that already. This is beyond my control - this is Dr. Arkham's doing, and maybe a little on Bolton's part. I'm sorry," I said as I stood up. "Maybe one day we'll be able to work together aga-"
Before I could finish my sentence, he had my back to the wall, and had his body pressed against mine.
"You were supposed to tell me things. We were supposed to have something going here." His lips hovered over mine.
"...and I said we can't have anything going on because of Derek. That one time was the last time anything's going to happen," I said firmly.
He pressed his lips to mine, and clamped down on my arms to keep me from pushing him off. I fought mentally - it really was a struggle, trying to take the moral high ground and walk away when this was the man I desperately wanted for over a month (which really wasn't that long). I felt my womanhood burn for him; his mouth was dominating mine, and I could feel a growing bulge in his pants.
"See what you do to me?" he whispered as he moved his crotch against my stomach. "Do you feel how badly I want you?"
He took hold of me and moved us to his bed; he sat down and pulled me down on his lap. I moaned quietly at the contact with his groin.
"I can't do this," I said quietly. "Derek-"
"- might be off screwing around with that bimbo from his band. He's not doing anything for you anyway. Let me do those things for you - let me be the one to give you pleasure. I can give you everything you want," he whispered in my ear, then proceeded to suck on my ear lobe.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and breathed heavily against his hair (which smelled like some kind of floral shampoo). I felt myself growing wet and tight from the close contact, and felt my morals being thrown out the window.
Fuck it.
He groaned as I got a steady rhythm going with grinding his crotch. His hands fell down to my hips and he held them as I rocked against him. I felt his tongue trailing down my neck, leaving goosebumps in its path. My hands slipped between us and I tugged at his zipper.
"Is it okay if I do this?"
He stared at me dully. "Do you really need to ask?"
I pulled the zipper down, and ran my hands down his clothed chest. The zipper went down a little further, stopping at the seam of his pants. He was commando, and his erection sprang out with no effort. Thick and circumcised, his dick was glorious and I felt a stronger urge for him to fill me.
"Like what you see, Doc?" he whispered as he took hold of my hand, placing it on his dick, which was moist from pre-cum.
"Stop talking," I said as I got off his lap and went down on my knees. "If this is the last time we're together, let's make it worth our while."
He leaned back on his elbows and grinned as he watched me fondle his balls while rubbing the head of his cock against my lips. I slid it in about an inch and sucked, earning an approving groan from him, along with his hand going to the back of my head.
You hate this when it's with Derek. Are you so fixed in your routine that you feel like this is the only thing you can do with him? He said he's willing to do what I want... But this is actually a bit enjoyable. Why can't I just do things without having so much internal conflict?
He pushed my head down in a steady rhythm; I gazed up at him, feeling my jaw growing tired from pressure. He was beautiful in that moment - the dimly lit room cast a haunting shadow over his scarred face; his eyes were hooded, and his mouth was partially open. Moments later, our eyes met, and I felt his dick twitch in my mouth.
He kept his eyes locked on mine as I sucked him; his hand moved faster against my head, forcing his dick further into my mouth and making me have to stay conscious of my gag reflex. He panted, sweat trickling down the side of his face; I saw the veins bulging from his arms as his balls tightened against my fingers. Within seconds, I felt him release his seed into my mouth. Semi-sweet and thick, I swallowed it immediately.
He brushed my hair back, which was strange and out of character for him, before he got a tight hold on my wavy locks, making me whimper. He pulled me up to his mouth and kissed me slowly, which was just adding fuel to the fire in my loins in that moment. I was ready for him, and he was already spent; I didn't expect anything from him, but knew I at least gained fantasy material.
That was when I nearly jumped from surprise - his hand was going down my pants, a completely foreign concept for me. He moved his long, dextrous fingers between my wet lips, making me squirm and (quietly) moan against his mouth.
"That is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard," he whispered in my ear in an amused tone. "Where do you want to take it from here?"
"I don't care - just please don't stop doing that..." I spread my legs farther apart for him, feeling that pleasant burning sensation in my stomach building as he worked his fingers.
He undid a few buttons on my shirt and pulled it open, then had my bra unhooked (front clasp) within seconds. He licked his lips as he momentarily stared at my bare tits before he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. Hard.
I felt ready to come undone - his palm was working my clit, and my nipples were rock hard. His finger went in all the way, and his pace was faster; I rocked my hips against his hand, and panted as I rested my face against the side of his head.
"Mmm... Come on, baby - come for me," he whispered, the only other sound in the room was his fingers moving in my wet folds.
"I'm so close," I whispered. "Oh, god..."
My fingers tangled in his hair while I gripped his shoulder.
"Come. Now!" he hissed, his hand getting rougher, which sent me into complete euphoria.
That's when I felt fireworks - that jolt of imaginary electricity. I writhed against him, and tried to stay as quiet as possible. I gasped for air and panted as my eyes widened, keeping my face against his partially out of embarrassment for how I was acting.
I heard him chuckling quietly, which slowly worked its way into a brief laugh. He rubbed my thighs lazily as I dressed myself properly.
"Any chance you can still swing by here even if I'm not your patient any more?"
I looked down at him and sighed, feeling a dead weight in my chest again.
"I don't know. I won't have access to your cell now, and there won't be an excuse to come in here." He frowned.
"So this really might be the last time we're together."
I did something very bold that could have easily become a nightmare - I rested my hand on his painted cheek, tenderly rubbing my thumb against it, smearing some of his makeup. He didn't flinch, and didn't really respond emotionally. He just watched me.
"I guess so," I said sadly, continuing to stroke his cheek.
"We'll see about that."
Oh, Elaine. Why do you have to get yourself into the worst situations possible?