Chapter Two

I Need You to Need Me

A/N: Thanks to all who have read the story and reviewed...praise always helps to fire my creativity.

Violet's POV

Two weeks had passed by since Arkham Asylum became my new home, and I had to wonder how time could have passed by so quickly and so easily when each second should have seemed like torture, each minute an eternity. I knew the reason for my time passing by swiftly and peacefully, and his name was Jack. It was so insane, which if you think about it makes sense, given my surroundings, but who would have ever thought that a girl could find a friend in this place, especially a friend who had the record that the Joker carried around.

He was always attentive to me, in spite of my reluctance to communicate with him to begin with. He would sit beside me at every meal and at our group therapy sessions. He seemed to enjoy being with me, but at the same time it seemed to irritate him as well. He seemed to be arguing with himself every day, about his reasons for being nice to me and the necessity of befriending me at such a crucial point in his planning, at least that's the gist of what I caught of his conversations with himself. I swear, when he did that sort of thing, having arguments with himself, he reminded me of the Sméagol/Gollum relationship in Lord of the Rings, and I was just waiting for him to refer to something as his "Precious".

I was sitting in my favorite place in the yard, beneath a solitary oak tree, its branches full of green leaves, providing a nice patch of shade that made the spot a good ten degrees cooler than the rest of the yard. I had a good viewpoint of my fellow inmates from beneath that tree, and it may have been bad of me to do so, but I took a great deal of pleasure from just sitting still and observing them and all of their little quirks. Some of my fellow loonies were scary, with the way they spoke, and the way that they acted, they were just plain creepy, and then there were the ones like Timmy, who had accidentally killed his little brother in an auto accident. They had to keep him doped to the gills at all times, because if he was allowed to become lucid he would remember the crash, and would immediately attempt suicide. As long as he was medicated, his pain was reduced to mere confusion, wandering the grounds with Joey's teddy bear, asking everyone that he saw if they had seen his brother, explaining that it was their bedtime. The most pitiful thing of all was that the accident had occurred thirty years before, but as far as Timmy was concerned, he was still sixteen years old, searching for his seven year old brother, taking care of him the way any good brother would.

Jack had offered up the idea that the headshrinkers ought to just let Timmy wake up from his drug induced state and allow the poor man to do himself in, and I had become very angry with him at the time for what I perceived to be a heartless attitude, but with each day that passed, I became more aware of what a kindness that would be for Timmy, to be freed from both this prison and also the one that held him captive in his heart and mind.

"Will you accept a present in exchange for your thoughts, pretty lady?"

I looked up at the familiar voice and saw his outstretched hand, and clasped gently between his thumb and index finger was an origami flower. He always brought me gifts, things that he would make for me in arts and crafts, or as he would say, "farts and craps". He had the sense of humor of a teenage boy, but I couldn't keep myself from smiling, regardless of the fact that I knew that my appreciation only served the purpose of encouraging him to be more and more crude.

"It's not exactly a violet," he explained, reaching down to tuck the flower behind my ear after I failed to take it from him as fast as he would have liked. "But the color is spot-on, my Dainty, and I thought, well I hoped, that you would like it."

I raised my hand to brush my fingertips gently against the intricately folded paper blossom. "I do like it Jack," I answered, smiling as I met his eyes. "It's a very beautiful flower, and you're right, the color is perfect."

That was enough to make him happy and he indicated with a wave of his hand that he wanted to sit down next to me, and I nodded to show him that I didn't mind. That was one of the things that I liked best about Jack, he didn't try to force me to talk to him. Everyone else wanted me to speak to them, they wanted a verbal answer for every question, and I found out quick that nodding or shaking your head did not count as communication with these people.

I noticed Jack watching me out of the corner of my eye, and I saw that he would raise his hand and reach it towards me before dropping it down to his lap at the last minute, and I could hear him muttering to himself about being stupid and that I wouldn't want him to touch me. It wasn't the first time that I had noticed him doing this, and I was torn on what I should do. He gave me the impression of someone who probably hadn't been touched in any way that could be called positive for the majority of his life, and more than likely he longed for that type of connection with someone. Of course, there was also the part of his personality that enjoyed being hit and feeling pain, but I decided that I would nourish his need for kindness, hoping to never have to witness firsthand his desire to cause and receive pain.

I turned to look at him, and felt the awareness of the effect I had on him as I heard him take a deep breath and watched the muscles working in his throat as he gulped, his tongue darting out of his mouth to brush across his lips. Mister King, the bastard who bullied all of the inmates, hated when Jack would do that with his tongue, positive that Jack was doing it to mess with him, but personally, it didn't bother me at all.

I reached down to take hold of his hand, running my fingertips along the tendons, turning it over to lightly explore the calluses on his palms. I loved his hands, loved to watch them when I was sure that he wouldn't notice. They were artistic hands, but they were also very masculine, strong and well-shaped, and had caused me to grow hot and bothered on more than one occasion, just from looking at them. This was the first time that I had touched them, and the feel of his skin against mine caused my nipples to tighten just a bit beneath the sensible cotton bra that I wore beneath my prison garb.

"Where do you want to touch me Jack?" I asked softly, taking note of the increased huskiness of my voice and the fact that I'd asked a very open-ended question. His breathing had quickened, and his eyes were alight with emotion, and I staggered a bit as I looked at him, taken aback, as always, to see the handsome face of the man that hid beneath the greasepaint that seemed to act as a security blanket against the rest of the world.

"Um...your hair...if that would be alright with you," he answered after a few moments, chewing on his lip nervously.

I raised his hand that I'd been exploring, placing it on the crown of my head, closing my eyes as his fingers slid gently into my hair, pulling the length away from my head, rubbing the texture between his fingertips. "It's just as soft as I knew it would be," he whispered, raising his other hand to join the first. It pleased me, to know that he'd thought of this, had thought of me, just as I'd thought of him, night after lonely night in my bunk.

It was hard to remind myself, at times like this, the identity of the man that I was currently crushing on. I had heard all of the horror stories about the Joker's exploits before I had come into this place, but I hadn't ever met the Joker, all I knew was Jack.

His fingers slid through the length of my tresses, finding the flesh of my throat behind the cascade of hair, and he lingered for just a moment, his eyes staring deeply into mine. I nodded my consent, knowing that was what he was wanting, and I felt my nipples tighten further as he fingers skimmed along my flesh, tracing along the underside of my chin. "Your skin is just as soft as your hair, my Dainty," he whispered softly, and I blushed as he leaned towards me, placing his nose against the flesh of my throat and breathing deeply.

It was a couple of days into our acquaintance that he began referring to me as his Dainty, and the nickname had confused me to begin with. I asked him what he meant for it to stand for, and he had answered that it was because I was so exquisite, of course, as though that should have been obvious to me. I had been told that I was pretty a few times in my life, once I had even heard the word beautiful connected to my name, but I couldn't recall any other time that someone had described me as exquisite, and let me tell you, it's pretty heady stuff, that type of knowledge.

"You always smell so good," he murmured, taking deep breaths, the warmth of his breath causing goose bumps to break out all over me. "How do you manage to smell so yummy in a hellhole like this?"

"I use some lotion that I brought in with me," I explained, my heartbeat accelerating as I felt his lips brush against my throat. "I like it because it has the essence of violet as part of the scent."

He giggled and brushed his lips against my neck once more, this time deliberately. "Sounds like they made it just for you," he said, drawing the scent deeply into his nose. "Mmm...you smell so yummy," he whispered once more.

I could feel myself growing more and more heated with each moment, the strong urge I felt for him a foreign emotion that was both exciting and frightening to me. I hesitantly placed my hand atop his as it rested on my throat. "You always smell good too," I said, hoping that I didn't sound like a complete boob to him. "Sandalwood is one of my most favorite scents."

I felt him stiffen against me, and he pulled away from me slowly and my breath got caught in my throat as I took notice of the hostile look on his face, thinking that I must have really upset him. Then I noticed that his look wasn't directed at me, but rather at someone standing behind me. I turned to see Mr. King watching us interestedly.

"Well now, isn't this a regular Hallmark moment," he cackled. "I found me a secret romantic intralude under the old oak tree between a loony clown and his two-bit whore."

Jack's eyes narrowed first with anger, and then he snorted with laughter, shaking his head at King. "The correct word is interlude, King, in-ter-lude."

King's face quickly lost its smile as he hauled Jack roughly to his feet, using his baton more forcefully than he was supposed to, as was his habit. "You better heed that fucking lip clown boy," he hissed, drawing Jack up toward him until Jack was balanced on his tiptoes. "It just might get you killed one of these days."

He released his hold on Jack, causing him to stumble backward, and I shot to my feet to steady him. King had a self-satisfied smirk on his face and I had no doubt that he would pass this tale around the guard room, parts of it altered so that he would always be the smarter, the stronger and the one with the sharpest wit. The guards regarded Jack the way a group of boys might regard a junkyard dog. All were scared of the beast, all of them told tales of its ferocity, and all tried to be the one with the tale to beat all tales, the one who effectively subdued and humiliated the animal that scared them so badly.

"You and your little whore just lost the rest of your yard time with this infraction clown boy," King sneered. "You're both going back to your cells now for a little cooling off."

He reached down to take hold of Jack's arm, but Jack pulled away from the guard roughly, causing the jackass to stumble a bit. I choked back a giggle, expecting Jack to laugh as well, but the look on his face had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with rage.

"Are you going to turn this into an issue, freak?" King asked, grabbing for Jack's arm once more. "I'm begging you to give me cause to wipe the ground with your scrawny ass."

He was so assured of his right as the dominant one that it made for a very comical expression to take hold of his face as Jack flipped him to the ground, quite easily, banishing any doubt about Jack being scrawny. He placed his knee against King's throat, and I panicked as I heard the alarm bells ringing and the shouts of the other guards as they ran towards us.

"You owe the lady an apology Mr. King," Jack hissed, pressing more of his weight against the guard's throat. "It was very ungentlemanly of you to malign her good name with such a vile insult."

I suppose that it was behavior that would have me branded as a loon, or at the very least, a ninny, but my heart swelled just a touch when I realized that his hostility was for me, for my honor. It didn't stop the guards from dragging Jack off of King viciously, allowing the humiliated guard to land a few punches before Dr. Leonard arrived and took command. It didn't keep us from being disciplined by being restricted from dinner that night, if that could actually be considered punishment.

What it did accomplish was to fortify the bond that had been forming between us, and to settle in my mind that despite his previous actions and crimes as the Joker, there was no harm, and no shame to be found in my blossoming affections for the man that he was now.

Jack's POV

It was inevitable, three o'clock on the dot, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we were herded into the supposedly cheerful yellow room to share our madness with our fellow cuckoo's...inevitable and mandatory. Nothing short of death would excuse you from attending, and even then they would probably wheel your corpse into the room, coaxing your lifeless husk to open up and share its innermost feelings with the rest of the group. It would be a horrifically boring experience for your dead body, but I would imagine that it would perk the other loonies up more than ten rounds of electroshock therapy.

Every week, when I was called on by Dr. Leonard to impart some horrific detail of my life for the enjoyment of the group I declined, earning myself an even longer stint in this laugh factory, and would tell the good doctor that I was of the opinion that given the success rate of our little group, it would be in our best interest, not to mention that of Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Taxpayer to invest in some good aromatherapy, because this psychotherapy usually led to unintentional hypnotherapy. As you can imagine, these remarks didn't go over well with Dr. Leonard, and had earned me several "I'm disappointed in you" looks, but they had earned me the faithful adoration of my fellow nut jobs, and really, what more could anyone ask for than to be adored by the criminally insane?

The only ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary existence was my Dainty little girl, as always. She sat beside me in group therapy, turning to smile at me every so often, her presence calming me more than any psychotropic drug ever could. Our relationship had developed nicely these past two weeks, and I just had to remind myself to take things slow, not to rush her or scare her away. I'm sure that she assumed that I was simply playing with her to begin with, tormenting her for my own sick pleasure, but after a slow courtship of gifts and pleasantries, she seemed to trust me, and to be eager to return the affections that I felt for her.

I watched her from the corner of my eye as Nicky, the whiny arsonist who had roasted his family in lieu of the traditional turkey three Thanksgiving's ago droned on and on about how no one understood him, no one loved him...blah, blah, blah. How could I have ever been crazy...heh, heh...enough to prefer plastic bodied, soulless shells of femininity over this beauty that was sitting beside me? Granted I had only known her for two weeks, but in that short amount of time I had come to realize that there was a lot to be said for natural splendor.

Her breasts didn't look to be anywhere close to the double-d mark, although it was difficult to get an accurate reading due to the bagginess of her prison issue top. I would be willing to bet that her breasts were just the right size, the size that would fit snugly into the palms of my hands, and that they were tipped with dusky rose nipples that would harden and grow as I massaged them with my tongue...oh great...another erection in group therapy, right there for anyone and everyone to see. Why can't I control my thoughts and keep them from traveling down the "completely inappropriate at this time" path?

Violet turned to look at me, more than likely she had noticed my total lack of concentration where the babbling idiots were concerned. She smiled at me briefly, drawing my lust addled mind to the fullness of her lips, imagining first a rather tame experience...kissing her for the first time, and then straight in to the hardcore porn as her plump lips encircled the head of my...no, no, no! I had to take my mind out of the gutter, and back to where Violet wasn't playing a leading role in every sweaty, smutty fantasy my depraved mind could dredge up.

I returned the smile, along with a little wink, and my smile grew as she blushed and returned her eyes to the continuing melodrama of Nicky, the whiny pyromaniac, crossing her legs like any proper lady would. Unfortunately for me, this drew my attention to what I was sure would prove to be a remarkable set of gams, were I ever given the chance to admire them. She was pretty short, which meant that they wouldn't go on for miles, as I would have preferred in the past, but I would wager a good amount that they would be curvy, with baby soft thighs, and that they would feel wonderful wrapped around my waist as I plunged into her, harder and harder until she...

"Perhaps you'd care to share something with us now Jack." Dr. Leonard's voice broke through the holds of my fantasies, thank God, returning me to the present where I was in a yellow room...urine yellow, to be exact...surrounded by the other groupies, sitting beside my sweet Dainty, and all those eyes, twenty pair in all, were trained on me.

"Share something?" I replied, my mind still fuzzy from the onslaught of lustful images that had been occupying the majority of my brain functions.

Dr. Leonard looked exasperated, a common expression for her whenever she was dealing with me. "Yes, Jack," she replied. "This is group time right now, and it would be the polite thing for you to share with us, and pay attention as we share with you."

She was doing it again, provoking me, knowingly pushing me; although I had made myself very clear on how much I despised her saying that. "Don't call me Jack," I hissed, feeling my body tense, every muscle tightening. "I hate that name coming out of your mouth, and you have no right to say it!"

She had the audacity to look like I had offended her, even though she knew my feelings on that subject, even though I had asked her nicely...countless times...to not address me as Jack. Every crazy in the room was offering me their undivided attention now, and Violet was among those who were staring at me. I waited to see if she would look offended or disgusted, but in the end she merely smiled at me and patted me on my hand.

That bit of comfort didn't escape Dr. Leonard's eagle-eyed stare, and she turned her censorious gaze in our direction, the bitter gaze of a dried-up old maid who had probably never even been kissed, let alone shagged. "Well, I suppose that I will just have to mark you down as uncooperative," she said, like that was a big surprise to me or anyone else in the room. "Perhaps Miss Dean would favor us with an anecdote instead."

I felt Violet stiffen beside me, and cursed Dr. Leonard. She had left my Dainty alone up until this point, and I knew that the only reason that she was singling her out now was because she was a vindictive hag underneath all of that We are the World crapola that she projected to everyone else. "I don't have anything that I'd like to share right now," Violet answered.

Dr. Leonard's face took on a look that was almost serpentine in nature, making me wonder how she could have crossed over so completely to the dark side in such a short amount of time. Where had the wide-eyed doctor, eager to help the weary and downtrodden crazies navigate the world disappeared to?

"If you refuse to participate in group therapy I will have to mark you down as uncooperative," she explained. "And if I mark you down as uncooperative, you will leave the officials with no other choice but to lengthen your sentence."

I'm sure that Violet knew that just as well as the rest of us did. Hell, I'd had an additional twelve years tacked on to my bid already. She still looked frightened by the prospect of extra time however, and leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath as she did so.

"What do you want to know?" she asked quietly, her voice flat and her face devoid of all emotion.

"Whatever you would like to share," the good doctor replied all sweetness and light once more.

"I already said that I didn't have anything I wanted to share," Violet said, her anger betrayed by just the tiniest quiver in her voice.

Dr. Leonard looked at her, eyes narrowed, "That's not our general policy here, Miss Dean," she answered. "But if this is the only way to get you to open up, I'm sure that I can waive policy this one time. Why don't you tell us about Anthony Rizzuto?"

Violet stiffened even more beside me, a helpless whimper escaping her. I was seized by a nearly uncontrollable need to pick her up in my arms and flee, but I knew that we'd really get nailed by that turd King if I were to try.

"He dates my older sister Poppy," Violet answered, the quiver in her voice becoming stronger. "He's the reason that I'm in here."

I had to admit that I was wanting her to continue at this point, having always wondered what my Dainty had ever done that warranted her being sent to the pustule on the backside of humanity, otherwise known as Arkham Asylum.

"You said that he dates your sister Poppy," Dr. Leonard continued, recognizing the blood in the water, a sign that her prey was weak and vulnerable. "Isn't it true that he's married, had been for twenty years, and that he's actually having an affair with your sister?"

Violet took a deep breath, anger beginning to build alongside her pain. "Yes that's true. It's also true that I maimed his manhood and tried to kill him. Just like it's true that he raped her, and that I was trying to save her!" She was in tears by this time, which counted as bonus points for good old Dr. Leonard.

"And after all that sacrifice on your part, she testified against you, isn't that right?"

Man oh man, just when I thought that I had problems and issues with trust, I found out that this had happened to Violet. No wonder she didn't trust anyone, hell, who would after something like that? Dr. Leonard announced that we had reached the end of our time together, now once she had decimated my Dainty, had drawn a good amount of blood in the process as well.

The doctor liked for us to stop and chat on our way back to our cells, but I avoided her. First of all, I wanted to catch up with Violet who had shot out of the room as fast as she could, and secondly, I couldn't trust myself to not break the hag's face were I to get close to her.

Violet had made it back to her room before I could catch up with her, and I entered my own cell feeling rather forlorn, wishing that I could go into her room with her, wishing that she would let me hold and comfort her. In the end I made do with the best that I had to work with, lying down by the hole in my cell, humming to her, my heart breaking as I listened to her sob.