© Ellie Goodson 2016

Chapter Twenty-Patchwork isn't my speciality

~Arabella Jones~

I had found myself, once again, in the current state of having to wait patiently for my dearest Joker to return. He had to leave suddenly, when one of his goons had clearly reminded him about a certain 'plan' they had. Something bad, something criminal like, no doubt. With one last, deep kiss from the clown, he pulled on his clothes and left me tangled in the purple sheets, with a promise to return within the hour. My whole body was left humming as I watched him go.

Now, I was strolling around the warehouse, completely bored out of my mind. I was approaching a wall that had a clock on it, and when I saw the time, my heart sank. "You're late." I whispered, rolling my eyes to myself. Shaking my head slightly, I turned on my heels and started making my way back to the Joker's room. I still found it unbelievably hard to call his room my own, I couldn't understand why. I hadn't exactly been paying attention to where I was while I wandered around the warehouse, and felt my heart rate pick up as I couldn't find my way back. I had spent so long in the bedroom, that I had barley learnt my way around.

I kept on winding through the corridors, panic sparking in my veins. I realised then how stupid I was being. I felt fear, because I used to fear the Joker finding me out of the room. But it was different now, I didn't need to feel fear or panic, and as this thought processed through my brain, all the panic within me died. I wanted to kick myself for being so stupid, I didn't need to be scared of the Joker anymore. Something within me, something right at the back of my mind, questioned if maybe there was another reason to my fear, if it didn't come from the Joker.

It hit me where I was then, metaphorically. I recognised the stairs I was approaching, and the large double doors, from the first time I had left the Joker. Relief settled through me, and I decided to take a seat on the steps and wait patiently for the clowns return. The steps were cold and hard; they were uncomfortable to sit on. A sudden craving began to take over me while I waited. I wanted the Joker back, to be back in his presence, to feel the safety that only he could make me feel, and all of the other...stuff that sparked explosions within me.

Still, it took him another hour before he, and all of his goons, came stumbling through the double doors. By then, I was on the verge of having a panic attack. While I waited, and waited, frightful thoughts of what could've happened to him had been racing through my mind. I was a trembling mess, wide eyed and heart racing. My stomach was tied into knots, ones that left me with a sickened feeling. As soon as the Joker was stood upright, I held onto him as tight as I could, reassuring myself that he was okay and that he was alive. "You scared me." I said breathlessly, feeling tears prick my eyes.

The Joker had taken it as a joke, I assumed, as he seemed to be chuckling while he pulled me away. But when he saw the tears in my eyes, threatening to spill, his face changed into something serious. His purple gloved hand cupped my cheeks, pulling me against him once more. "What did you think had happened to me?"

"You're an hour and a half late, I thought-I thought you'd died or something!" One, hot tear trailed down my cheek as I tried desperately to regain control of myself.

"I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon. I promise."

I realised then that my hand was resting on something wet, warm and sticky. "Oh my god." I pulled back from the embrace to look at my hand, which was soaked in blood. "What happened?" I pushed the Joker to the side a little, gazing at the bleeding wound on his waist.

"It's just a little accident." I gently put my fingers on the cut, and heard the clown hiss in pain.

"Yeah right." I simply replied before taking his hand and beginning to walk to the same room that I had first patched him up, motioning for the goons to follow.

I kept looking back nervously at the Joker, seeing the skin beneath his white paint pale. As soon as we were back in that dark, gloomy room where blood stained equipment still rested on the table, I pushed the Joker onto the comfortable sofa before turning to one of the goons. I saw then that they were all injured too. "Okay...okay...okay right. One of you needs to get me as many medical kits as you can. I need clean equipment because I am not infecting or killing any of you by using these." I was throwing the bloodied tweezers and other equipment away, but I hadn't heard anyone moving. "Go, now." I watched as a couple goons dispersed out of different doors and into different areas.

While they were busy collecting my medical kits and equipment, I returned to the ghostly Joker who sat half-conscious on the sofa. "You're losing too much blood, shit." My fingers fumbled at the buttons of his many layers, ordering him to take them off as painlessly as he could. I saw he had an amused smile on his face while he watched me, and only he could find entertainment from his own injury. While the Joker was carefully shrugging off his blue, hexagonally patterned shirt, the goons all returned with different things. They had brought a lot of medical kits and equipment with them, and it looked like I'd be needing the whole lot.

I briefly thanked all them, telling them that they'd have to wait patiently as this would take a little while. I took a seat next to the Joker, focusing all of my attention on him. He had gotten his shirt off now, and I was left to face the grizzly sight. "How did this happen?" I inquired while applying antiseptic to a white cloth.

"Glass cut me from a mini explosion and-" his words were cut off and replaced by a hiss as I gently placed the cloth onto his wound. "It must've gotten worse as I carried on."

"Carried on doing what?" I folded the cloth and picked up a pair of tweezers and a metal tin from the table. There was gravel and glass in his wound; I would definitely have to look around for any hidden fatalities.

"I'm not dragging you into it, doll."

I left the questions there, deciding to focus on removing all of the dirt from his wound. I picked out several shards of glass, large and covered in blood. When I glanced up at the Joker, I caught him watching me with an easy smile. I returned the small smile with my head down, but couldn't help the worry that boiled in my stomach at the sight of how pale he was getting. "You willing to take pain killers this time?" I asked, biting my lip as I gently tugged a bit of gravel from his wound. The Joker yelled, resting his head back on the sofa.

"Never taken pain killers before, never will, Doc."

"Maybe someone needs to hit you around the head; it makes the victim go all fuzzy." There was no reply from the clown, and for a split second, I thought that he had passed out. But then he squirmed against my picking tweezers, and so I knew that he was at least conscious.

There were several pieces each of glass and gravel in the metal tin by the time that I couldn't see anything more in the wound. I picked up the white, blood stained cloth with antiseptic on it once more before gently dabbing it on the empty wound. There was no moan or groan from the Joker this time, and when I glanced up to check on him, I saw him gazing ahead in a dazed state. I needed to sew up his wound, and fast. I threaded the needle, and pricked his skin with it. I pulled the skin tightly together, frightened of the wound opening once more. While stitching up his injury, I saw out of the corner of my eye a syringe with a needle. When I finished stitching up the Joker, I cut the thread and picked up the syringe.

On closer examination, I saw that it was labelled as 'Morphine'. One look at the Joker's sickly wound, pale skin and dazed eyes, and I decided to give it to him. I gently pressed on the syringe, and a small amount of morphine squirted out. I had to test that it worked. "What are you doing?"

"You're going to hate me for this, but I don't care." As soon as I finished those words, I caught the Jokers wrist and pressed the needle into one of his protruding veins. I pressed the liquid into him, and within seconds I saw a sigh escape from the clown's lips. He'd feel better with that in his system, and I felt better about patching up the others.

By the time I had bandaged up all of the goons, and had sent them off to return to wherever they stayed, the Joker was sleeping peacefully on the sofa. There was no sign of pain on his handsome face, and all I could do was stare at the picturesque sight before me. I tipped the tray that had all of the bloody medical equipment on it in the bin, before tidying up the table a little. When that was done, I crouched down in front of the Joker, and placed a hand on his forehead. "Temperatures low. Colour has come back into his skin and cheeks. He'll be okay." I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, before getting up and leaving the room quietly, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber.

I made it back to the room without passing out. When I got to the bed, I simply tossed all of my bloody clothes onto the floor and climbed onto the purple sheets in merely just my underwear. I was drifting into a heavy sleep within minutes, but concerned thoughts of the Joker continued to bother my mind. Eventually I slept, because the next time I woke, the room was noticeably darker. The reason I woke was because a warm body was climbing into bed with me. I recognised the scent of gunpowder and greasepaint, and felt familiar bare skin press up against mine. "You're heating up again; I should get you some more morphine." I told the Joker while resting my head on his chest.

"Sleep, you're tired, Bella." He replied, just as sleepily.

We both slept, embraced in each other's arms and heat. I didn't know how much pain the Joker was in, but I was there if he needed me. And I knew that he was there if I needed him. That was how we worked. We weren't the sanest of people, but that's just how it needed to be from time to time. Everyone needed a little crazy in their life; otherwise it just wouldn't be any fun. And being with the Joker certainly was fun. Sometimes, it takes two messed up people to make a normal relationship.