AN: If you've ever seen Pan's Labyrinth, I imagine Joker humming something similar to the lullaby from that.

This is my finals week, so I can't guarantee that there'll be daily updates. Sorry.

Thanks for the reviews!

The Joker let him go and he crashed to the floor. The room wasn't just shaking; it was spinning at the same time, the vertigo so horrible that the only thing keeping Jonathan from vomiting was that he was laughing too hard to be sick. His heart was pounding so hard and fast he was seriously worried about it giving out, despite the fact that he knew, logically, the toxin wasn't near strong enough to do that. But it was hard, no impossible, to be logical right now, with the poison racing through him like wildfire, wanting nothing more than to huddle in the nearest corner and wait the effects out, eyes shut, hands over his ears.

But he couldn't, no matter how great the desire to, because he was trembling too much to have any motor control at all, and even if he had been able to move, he was laughing too hard to expend energy on anything else. Laughing hard enough to bring tears, so hard it hurt, much like the light in the room was painful, seeming to flicker brighter and brighter to the point of hurting, even once he'd closed his eyes. The sound of his own voice hurt as well; he didn't seem to be so much hearing noises as having the sound waves stab him in the ears. Everything hurt.

It's not real, he told himself, trying to force himself to believe it. None of this is real, it's just a chemical, you're fine. Nothing's really happening, you're all right. He knew it, deep down, but that didn't help. It wasn't as if being aware of the chemical reactions going on inside of him made the effects any less horrific. And the knowledge that it was all in his head wasn't the least bit helpful, because that didn't make it feel any less real.

"Well," said the Joker brightly, his voice sounding to Jonathan less human and more like a power drill would sound, if it could speak, "guess it works, huh?"

Eyes still closed, over the hammering of his heartbeat and the sound of his laughter, Jonathan heard the Joker crouch down beside him and went rigid. At least, for a moment, anyway, before the shaking and the laughing resumed. If there was one thing he did not want to see while hallucinating, it was the Joker's face. He could imagine how it would look—he was imagining it, damn toxin and its ability to take a horrifying idea and run with it—and that was something he never wanted to think about again, let alone actually see.

"You know, I like you this way." His voice didn't sound human anymore, it was something dark, foreign, something that made Jonathan want to scream, and all he could do was laugh, harder than ever. "So…uncontrolled."

Jonathan felt the Joker's hand stroke his face and stopped breathing, for a second, his breath coming back in shallow gasps when it did. It hurt. He knew that it was just in his head, that the Joker had touched the scars so he hadn't actually felt anything at all, but that didn't stop his mind from telling him that it hurt. It felt as if the skin had been ripped where the Joker's hand had grazed. It felt as if he was bleeding, even though he knew he couldn't be. Unthinking, he reacted by striking out, only to have the Joker grab his wrist and hold it, the glove feeling like fire against his skin, and he was still unable to stop laughing.

"Hey. No." The other hand was on his face again, the pain as bad as ever, turning his head so that they were facing each other. "Look at me."

No. God, no. No no no. He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't look, because if he looked, he'd lose whatever little bit of control he still had, and they both knew it. And the clown would make him look, and it would push him over the edge.

"Look at me." His voice was deeper, louder, painful enough that time to make Jonathan open his eyes, out of shock. And he saw.

The Joker's scars had opened up, making a grotesque, gaping wound in his face, the red framing it no longer lipstick, but blood. His eyes seemed to have disappeared into the black around the sockets, which didn't look like paint any longer, just voids that threatened to suck in anyone who was stupid to stare at them long enough. And Jonathan was unable to look away. The Joker smirked, causing the wounds to spill more hallucinatory blood, and Jonathan felt tears in his eyes that he knew were the start of real crying, not just a byproduct of the laughter.

"I like you uncontrolled." Jesus Christ, the cuts actually seemed to spray blood when his lips moved. Jonathan could swear he felt it hit his face, though he knew he was really feeling his own tears. What he wouldn't give to be able to stop laughing long enough to scream. "But this might be a bit much for even my tastes. Do you know why I did that to you, Jonny?"

He paused for a moment, until it became clear that his companion was too far gone to answer, then reached out and shook Jonathan's head for him. "Because it wasn't just to be an ass. That was part of it, yeah, but there was more."

His eyes flashed, which looked to Jonathan like a spark of light from the depths of the gaping black holes. "You're smart. Real smart. But so am I. And I know when someone's trying to play games with me."

Jonathan was amazed he could even hear the words, he was so panicked. It didn't help that somehow in the last few minutes, breathing seemed to have stopped being an involuntary process for him and he was struggling to keep from suffocating, forcing himself to inhale between the laughs.

"You don't like sex? Fine. I don't care about it that much anyway. I mean, it feels fantastic, but it's not the end all be all of human existence. What I do care about is the fact that you've been trying to torture me by holding out on your, uh, affections.

"Don't try to deny it," he added, as if Jonathan was in any state to do so. "Because it's what you've been doing for the past three days, and if you try it again, I'm gonna have to do something even worse to teach you a lesson. Don't think I'll hesitate to hurt you. See, scaredy cat, playing with a toy isn't the fun part. Breaking it is. Don't make me break you. Okay?"

He released Jonathan, who immediately went back to cowering on the floor in a laughing, trembling mess. "That is one nice drug you've created, Jonny." He paused. "Are you sure it's not gonna kill you?"

Jonathan, by way of response, went from silent—well, laughing—tears to full out hysterical sobbing.

"Damn. Not that it isn't really, really funny to see you like this—because it is—but uh, please don't have a heart attack."

Oh, when this wore off he was going shove the rest of that toxin down the Joker's throat and then kill him, slowly and painfully.

"Hey, c'mere."

He felt hands wrapping around him and pulling him against the Joker, each second of contact pure agony. He tried pushing away but, as usual, was completely overpowered.

"No. C'mon, don't be scared, I'm not gonna hurt you."

I find that highly unlikely. He already was hurting him. True, to his knowledge the Joker wasn't aware that the drug made contact painful, but he was not in the mood to be generous, especially to the person who had caused this in the first place. Looking back, it wasn't his smartest move, giving the psychopath the toxin in the first place, but he wasn't in the mood to learn from his mistakes either. He made another attempt to get away, only to have the Joker hold him tighter than ever.

"No. I'm trying to help you here, Jonathan. Okay? Just try to relax for me, all right?"

Relax. Oh, like that's going to happen. Still, he tried, for his own benefit. There was almost no discernable result. Of course there wouldn't be, given that the toxin was designed to keep its victims from calming down. His heart was still pounding, he was still hallucinating, and the room was still spinning. About the only difference he could ascertain was that he'd gone back to laughing more than crying, and that hardly helped.

"Good boy." A hand reached out to stroke his face, and he winced at the sensation, pulling back a third time.

Joker tilted his head. "Does that hurt you or something?"

He couldn't answer verbally; he was still laughing too hard. He was able to nod, however.

"Ah." He brought his hand back up, though this time barely touching at all. It wasn't painful, Jonathan assumed because his body could hardly feel the sensation to begin with. "What about that? Is that okay?"

He nodded.

"Good." He carried on in that manner, barely touching in that way, though his other arm stayed tightly, painfully wrapped around Jonathan's body. "Relax. You're fine."

If Jonathan was able to speak, he'd have told the Joker that he was wasting his time; the toxin lasted for a set time frame and nothing they did was going to make it end anytime sooner. As it was, he sat back—well, sat shaking and giggling—waiting for the clown to figure that out on his own.

He did, about half an hour later. Half an hour by Jonathan's estimate, anyway; it was likely the toxin had interfered with his perception of time, the way it interfered with all other perceptions. Strangely, he didn't let go when he realized he wasn't making a difference, as Jonathan would have expected, given his usual attention span. Instead he held on tighter than ever, ignoring Jonathan's protests, resting his head on Jonathan's shoulder and humming something—a lullaby, he thought—over and over while rocking, slightly.

It, like all other sounds did currently, hurt to listen to, but he found himself almost appreciating the sentiment. Which was ridiculous; there was no way the Joker was comforting him out of actual concern. This was just backpedaling, an attempt to save face to make Jonathan forget the assault in the first place. It had to be, because he wouldn't have poisoned him if he cared. No, this was just another scheme and the only thing making him feel differently was the chemicals affecting his mind.

The Joker stayed with him in that way for what seemed like hours, which Jonathan took as definite sign that his perception of time had been altered. There was no way the clown would do something like that. Even so, despite all the manipulating, despite the fact that this was all the Joker's fault to begin with, Jonathan found himself oddly grateful that he stayed with him until the toxin wore off enough for him to mercifully pass out.