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Nightmares
The circus was quiet. Too quiet. Even on quiet days it was never this quiet. There was always some sort of activity, practicing, setting up, taking down. But today, there was silence. Joker left his tent and paused to listen, hoping for something, anything, any sort of sound. His footsteps were louder in the quiet, his clothing rustling as loud as the wind.
Not only was the circus quiet, it appeared to be deserted, and there was no good reason for it to be deserted, ever. Joker checked the big top tent, the practice tent, but found nothing and no one. Nobody was practicing, not a mouse scurried in the shadows, no fly buzzed in the air.
The air was strange, thick and heavy, and the world itself seemed grey and dull. It was other wordly. And still Joker saw no one.
He halted his steps, sure he had heard something, and there it was again, a voice, calling his name. Relieved he wasn't the only one in this strange place, he followed the voice to the big top, but he had been sure there was no one there.
But now, lying in the center, there was someone, and as he got closer, the voice grew louder, his name echoing all around him, suddenly too much sound in the quiet, and when he looked down to the speaker, he nearly blacked out.
Doll, lying in the dust, arms and legs splayed like a broken china doll, eyes vacant and unseeing, blood trickling from her lips. Dead.
Joker dropped to his knees, raising trembling hands to her form when it changed, and Beast took her place, just as beautiful in death as in life, her vibrant crimson eyes dull and lifeless. Claw marks ripped her chest open, their marks an ugly imperfection.
He reached for her more urgently, and her form changed, becoming Jumbo's hulking form, still and unmoving, a gash on his head leaking blood onto the dirt floor. Then Peter, just as broken as Doll, eyes closed. Wendy, broken and lifeless. Dagger, one of his own knives embedded in his chest, mouth open in a silent scream.
Joker felt tears sting the corners of his eyes as he gathered Doll into his arms, even as her form changed to each and every one of his friends, his family, dead and lifeless, leaving him all alone. The tears fell unbidden down his face, sobs ripping from him as though they were painful.
"Please don't leave me," he whispered, whole body shaking with fear and wracked with sobs, "Please, please, please…"
Joker sat up with a jolt, heart hammering and face still wet with tears. He swiped a hand across his cheek to dry them, snapping his gaze to his tent flap. It was dark, and nearly silent out. Had it all been a dream? Every fiber of his being screamed yes, but the silence unnerved him, and he clambered from his bed to the big top tent. It was empty.
He raced to the tent nearest his and threw open the flaps, shoulders slumping in relief when he saw Doll, curled up in her bed, fast asleep with her mouth wide open. He smiled involuntarily, but made sure to check each and every one of the first tier tents, to find them all asleep and well.
Beast woke when he arrived, rubbing her tired crimson eyes, "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, "Nothing. Had to check something."
Beast yawned and snuggled back into her covers, returning to sleep even before he had left for his own tent. It was a dream, just a dream. A nightmare. And yet, even as Joker lay back down to sleep, he knew that someday, it could very well be a reality. He only hoped he'd die with them.