© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Nineteen-Your scars are beautiful

~Arabella Jones~

I hung upside down on the bed, feeling pressure rise in my head and face as all of the blood rushed to it. My hair was crushed against the floor, and I found myself giggling and laughing as everything hung off of the ceiling like a bat. It probably didn't do any good for my health, considering the fact that I had enough issues getting blood around my body fast enough without making it all drain to my head. The black top that Selina had leant me wasn't quite tight enough to stay in position, and so it rested by my chest, showing my stomach off. I didn't care, right at that moment; the inner child within me was alive and playing. My legs kicked up in the air as I tried endlessly to balance myself, and I was well aware of the fact that my face was rapidly getting a darker and darker shade of red.

If I didn't get up soon, the pressure in my veins (mainly) would build and build from the blood until they popped. That wouldn't be very good, as I'd most likely die. With the chilling thought running through my head, I pulled myself up and rested against the wall that sat next to the bed. The Joker had left the room, promising to return within a couple of minutes. One of his goons had rudely disturbed us mid conversation, while I told him about my ironic fear of clowns. "Don't worry." I had told him. "You don't scare me in that way; clowns frighten me because I always have to question them. Why do they always smile? What is with the face paint? What are they really hiding behind the mask and under all of the colourful clothing and wigs? But I don't have to question you." I had explained in a desperate attempt to reassure the Joker. "With you, there's a reason and understanding, no matter how crazy it is."

"There's so much to you that I don't know. But I want to. Really, I want to know anything and everything about you." The clown had simply replied, and that was all he could get in before a knock rudely disturbed us.

Now, I was rolling around on the bed, bored out of my mind. I wanted to change as, although Catwoman's clothing may be flattering, my clothing was far more comfortable. I rolled off of the bed, and crawled over to the wardrobe, slowly making my way up until I stood once more. I pulled out a skirt, and it was the only time anyone would ever see me in one. Deciding to go for the usual outfit of a vest along with the skirt, I dropped the clothes on the bed and started to change. I dropped the black top onto the floor with a sigh, feeling my skin tingle as the cold pricked at it. "My, my. But, haven't we met not so long ago?" My body jolted at the unexpected sound of a voice, before relaxing after realising who it was.

I shook my head at the clown, who was leaning against the door frame. I felt his eye scan my body, which was now only covered by a black, cotton bra and a pair of black, ripped knee jeans. I avoided making eye contact, persuading myself to feel comfortable in his presence. I had never been one to 'show off' my body, and I found myself always wearing oversized, well covering, clothes. No wonder Selina said that my clothing was unflattering. I was hideously aware of the fact that I didn't look all that good. I still hadn't slept, and so I was left with black marks under my eyes and pale skin. I had obviously injured my leg more by doing all of the jumping and running and fighting with the girls, but hadn't noticed because of the adrenaline that had rushed through me at the time. Now it ached dully and was a constant reminder that I should've rested instead of jumped and climbed out of buildings.

I felt hands press against my prominent hips and hot breath against my neck. "Now, you can't just tease me like so." The door was now closed, and I found that it was indeed the Joker who had his hands rested on me. He slid his bare fingers up my naked waist before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him. A shiver rippled down my spine not just from the mix of heat that came from the Joker and the cold of the natural air. A kiss was placed upon my neck, before slowly trailing up onto my jaw, and then my cheek. I didn't know how far this would go, or where it was even going. But I knew that I loved and cared for the Joker, and I knew that he felt similarly. And so I let it go as far as it did. And I didn't have one regret.

My eyes fluttered open against pale moonlight. It was late afternoon or early evening when we had gotten back to the warehouse. I took in the most amazing picture in front of me, something I had never thought that I'd see before. It was the Joker, but at the same time it wasn't. Most of his grease paint and make up had rubbed off, so his face was practically all skin. His green hair was a mess, tangled against the pillow. There were traces of black sunken into the creases around his eyes and faded smudges of red lipstick on his lips and scars. The white paint on his face was so rubbed off, that there was merely only minor patches here and there in hidden places.

He looked so peaceful when he slept, eyes closed and face ridden of any stress creases. The sheets only covered up to his lower abdomen, and so his well-structured chest laid bare against the coolness of the room. I looked down at myself, and realised that I was just as bare as he was, and then beautiful memories flooded my mind. I felt my heart rate speed up, butterflies developed in my stomach and I couldn't picture anything more amazing than what had happened not so long ago.

I reached up an arm, my mind now a little more under control. I traced over his gorgeous scars with my thumb. The skin was soft, yet lumped as if aggravated. Using only one thumb, I trailed up the scars on the right side of his face, and then down to see if the texture felt any different. And then he woke up. It was a subtle and slow thing, his eyes fluttered and a small smile picked at his lips. I stopped in my tracks, and a frown replaced the smile. "Don't stop." The Joker whispered quietly, opening one eye. I laughed lightly before moving my hand to the other side of his mouth, trailing my thumb over his lips as I did so. I watched as a shiver rippled over his body.

Jack had closed his eyes once more, and so I carried on trailing over his lips but didn't begin to trace his scars. Instead, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, eyes closed and hoping for the best. I felt him kiss back, and electric shocks shook my body. He pushed me onto my back, and so I linked my arms around his body and neck. The kiss deepened. Everything was getting heated once more; pure passion was controlling everything that happened between us. And then, someone knocked on the door.

We both groaned out loud, the kiss breaking as we waited patiently for the person to go away. They knocked again, and that's when I decided to do something. "Wait, okay." I told him, gently pushing the Joker off of me and back onto the bed.

"Don't take too long, doll." I wrapped one of the many sheets around my body like a strapless dress before jogging over to the door.

Like suspected, it was one of his goons. The goon seemed shocked to see me answer the door the way I did. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" I raised my eyebrows, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Uh-I need to speak to the boss."

"He's not here." I lied simply, shrugging my shoulders. The goon tried to push the door open further, and look around me. I shoved him back by the chest, glaring at him. "He's not here. Go away you imbecile!" And with that, I slammed the door in his face.

I strolled back over to the Joker, dropping the sheets before climbing back into bed. "That was amusing."

"Hey, I just bought us some extra time." I replied to his sarcastic comment, laying my head back down on the pillows.

"I know." Jack pressed a soft kiss to my neck and I felt my body hum with delight. "And I'm grateful for it. I just love the way you say 'imbecile' though."

The rest of the evening, following into late morning, was spent with us lying in bed, either kissing or something more. Sometimes we slept, other times we simply held each other. Either way, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It was a joy, to spend those hours, cupped in the Joker's arms, enveloped in bliss. "Your scars," I said to him, while simply resting my head on his chest. "They're beautiful." My fingers were absentmindedly trailing patterns onto his stomach, eyes getting lower with the peace and relaxation within me.

It was quiet for a moment. "How's your leg doing?" The Joker asked me while trailing his fingers over the few stitches that remained.

"It's healing well, all thanks to you." I replied, holding back a giggle as his soft touch was ticklish. "And your arm?"

"All that's left is a scar." I pushed my head up, trying to see if that was a bad thing or not. I caught his arm and twisted it a little, so that I could see the scar clearly. I placed a soft kiss to his arm, before resting my head back on his chest.

"Every scar you have is beautiful. I love them, as much as I love you." The words were a big risk; telling the Joker that I loved him was a huge thing for both of us.

I waited patiently for a reply, well aware that it was a lot for the Joker to process. His fingers curled a piece of my hair around themselves; he seemed to have been deep in thought. I thought that he was never going to answer, and my heart began to go crazy as panic settled at the pit of my stomach. And then he said it. "I love you too, Arabella doll."