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46. fiancée

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Disclaimer: My love and thanks to all of you for your reviews!!! It makes me absolutely elated that you enjoyed it!!! I think there is a place in all of us where we realize that no matter how sick and twisted the Joker may seem, there is something there that no one ever really cared to pay any attention to regarding why he is the way he is. I like that originally the Joker has no back story, but being a student of psychology myself, I felt that a character so completely developed and convoluted as the Joker should have a back story.

I went home that night unable to rid the Joker from my every thought. Every word from our session echoed loud and clear in my mind—it was clearer than a glass window pane, everything about him—why he is the way he is. I sat up in bed incapable of sleep. His story ran through my mind. I could feel my heart beating rapidly as his words spoke to me as though he were lying there right next to me. The joke, his childhood, the war, his father, his confirmation; his engagement. It killed me to think he had been engaged—so in love with another woman that he would ask her to marry him. She left him. She left him because of the scars. I could almost see his face, the expressionless composure in his eyes as he told me his story—as he revealed to me his fiancée left him because of his scarred appearance after he had been a victim of wartime torture. I couldn't comprehend anyone so evil—so selfish and horrible. It made no sense to me.

My stomach churned at the very thought of his fiancée telling him she was leaving him. Though I was very much a secondary source to this bit of information, I could almost see her face—though I'd never met the woman before in my life—and her expression as she saw him for the first time. I could see the disgust and disappointment radiate across her unknown face as she gazed upon him. I could see the utter remorse and melancholy growing in his eyes as he saw her gazing disapprovingly at him and the new addition to his once flawless face. I could see him licking his lips—no doubt the scars had been nearly healed, but barely so. I could see him as he developed the habit where he licked his lips—why he would want to cover up his face behind a clown's mask.

I could see his fiancée letting him down, telling him she just couldn't spend her life with someone who has such horrific facial scars. No doubt she pretended like it would be a constant memory of the war—something that had nothing to do with the slight disfigurement of her ex fiancé's face. In that moment, I could see something inside of him snap—I could see all of his horror and wartime memories collapse in on himself. I could see his expression as he realized that his life had become a horrific joke. I saw him snap; I saw him lose control and slip into the madness—I saw him become the Joker.

I am not too sure when the thoughts had turned into a dream or when I had fallen asleep, but I didn't realize I had been sleeping until my alarm woke me with a sudden jolt.

I forced myself out of bed in a daze. I readied myself as usual, but prepared myself mentally on my way to the asylum for my atypical Friday. I hadn't had the chance on Thursday to tell the Joker that Dr. Princeton asked me to fill in for him today. I thought maybe it would be a nice surprise for him since he tended to loathe Fridays anyway.

I strolled into the asylum and up to my office. I routinely logged into the slow Arkham system to check my email. On my desk, I noticed a note from Dr. Princeton regarding what I needed to cover in therapy today with the Joker. I sighed as I folded up the paper and placed it into my notes. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was nearly time for me to head down to the session room. I felt like I had just arrived! The butterflies beginning to swirl about my stomach alerted me to my nervousness. I guess I was never going to truly get over having to meet with the Joker for therapy.

I retrieved the Joker's chart and made my way to the therapy session room on the sixth floor—just down the hall from the Joker's room. I swiped my badge and entered the therapy room. My heart stopped. I felt it rise slowly into my throat as I saw him sitting there. His initially morbid expression melted away into a familiar grin. I assumed he was surprised to see me.

I took my seat across from him.

"You're early today," I said as I took out his chart.

"You're not my Friday therapist," he retorted. I caught on to what he was saying; he shows up extra early for Dr. Princeton's sessions—no doubt a request made by the God of psychiatry himself. I chuckled aloud at the comment.

"But this is a…nice surprise," he added on quickly before I could say anything. I glanced up at him. He was grinning pretty widely, so I returned his grin.

"It was a surprise for me too," I responded, still grinning. "So, here's the deal," I said finally, after pausing for a moment, "you and I both know just how…anal…Dr. Princeton is about these therapy sessions,"

He giggled at my revelation, seeming almost excited that I was agreeing with him on something else.

"And from my understanding yesterday, we made quite some progress—so, rather than follow his laundry list of things to cover with him…by his request…I am going to continue with our session…as though this were my day to see you and not Dr. Princeton's," I explained, slowing down my speech a bit, "So, I won't say anything…if you don't. Catch my drift?" I knew I was breeching a slight code of ethics, but he and I had made such amazing progress yesterday, I just couldn't pass up this extraordinary opportunity to continue the session—there was no way I could wait until Tuesday!

He licked his lips and smirked, "My lips are sealed,"

"Good. Now let's begin," I mused, as I flipped through my notes from the previous session.

"So…are you here on Christmasssss?" he asked me suddenly. Curious, I peered up at him from my notes, taken completely off guard. I wasn't sure if I should answer him, but the increase in the thudding of my heart told me I should.

"Yes, actually I am—Dr. Princeton requested it of me since he is going on vacation. I'll be here both Christmas Eve and day," I replied as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh, good! So glad you'll be here!" he exclaimed with an almost sadistic grin forming at his lips. It made me nervous, to be quite frank. I hadn't anticipated him to smile at me so evilly, but I think it was fitting for him. I quizzically narrowed my eyes at him, unsure of his reaction, but I quickly dismissed his appearance and went back to my notes.

"Now, yesterday we covered quite a bit—and it sounded to me to be a somewhat…emotional experience—I mean, a lot was discussed and revealed. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind discussing with me what brought you to Gotham and what got you into your alleged…career…as a, um…criminal mastermind?"

The Joker simply stared back at me in predominance. I felt like an idiot for asking that question from the look he gave me. I felt like I should know this answer.

"Actually, you don't have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable," I retreated finally. My voice nearly cracked as I let my nerves get the best of me.

"You already know the answer to that question," the Joker said finally, confirming my thoughts. I wasn't sure of what that answer may actually be, but I assumed the simplest answer: he moved to Gotham and became a criminal mastermind because of his experience in the war and with his fiancée.

"Great. Okay. Thanks," I said nervously as I jotted down a couple of notes.

"Why bother with that?" he asked suddenly. I glanced up and noticed his eyes bearing down at my notes.

"Oh, it's how I organize my thoughts in conjunction to the things you say," I explained casually, shifting the paper on the table.

"Can I ask you another question?" he asked, licking his lips and leaning forward on the table towards me. I started tapping my pen anxiously. Whenever he got so close, I could feel my face beginning to heat up from my nerves.

"S—sure," I stuttered.

Before he spoke, his eyes averted to my tapping pen. His hand reached out and pressed my hand to the table to cease the tapping. My heart fluttered with excitement at his touch, nearly flying out of my chest entirely.

"I think you need some xanax—for all that tapping," he snickered at me. I felt my face blush red under my olive skin. He reluctantly removed his hand from mine and locked in a gaze with me eyes. I quickly removed my hand from the table and crossed my arms across my chest.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" I asked, gaining composure as I leaned further away from him.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat, "Right," his lips parted as his mouth opened. His lips looked so full. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him.

"What floor is your office on?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"What's it to you? Are you planning an escape to my office?" I asked, chuckling at his question.

"It's a simple question," he responded.

"It's a question I'm not at liberty to answer," I retorted quickly, though I wanted to tell him—I wanted to release him myself and bring him to my office.

"I don't see…why. I have no ulterior motive except…maybe a thought every now and then…as to where you might…reside…while here in the….as-y-lum," he explained, licking his lips again. I narrowed my eyes at him, staring hard into his gaze. I needed to search for his reasoning—there had to be a reason for him to ask such a question.

"Well, I certainly can't call my time here 'residing', though I feel I am here more frequently than my own home," I mused, grinning at the thought of him thinking about me from time to time—knowing I'm somewhere in the building—somewhere he is not.

"You have my word—no unwanted visits," the Joker said, holding up his hands as though they revealed truth.

"Is that so,"

"I'm a man of my word," the Joker replied, licking his lips. He narrowed and then widened his eyes. I paused for a moment, deliberating whether or not I should reveal to him the location of my office. I licked my lips and glanced down at his notes and then back up at him.

"Fourth floor," I spoke finally, "but that's all I'll say,"

"Fair enough. That's all I needed to know. I simply asked you where your office is located—that would be the answer," he replied.

I glanced at my watch. Our time was just about finished. He had to have something up his sleeve. I didn't know what, but he managed to waste our time today without even knowing it was me that was his therapist today.

I walked him back to his room and pondered over the session. I was upset with myself for not getting anything done I had wanted to. I wondered why he really wanted to know where my office was. He had to have a plan or something. I knew from our past that he supposedly wasn't a man with a plan, but I knew that was not always true. He was up to something, but I had no way of knowing. It just made me nervous to be in the dark with the Joker. It wasn't a place I was comfortable being. I don't think anyone would feel comfortable being in the dark with the Joker.

I went home that evening, ready for the weekend to sweep me away from my thoughts. I hoped that perhaps Bruce would be able to take me away from my mind for a while.

"I am so nervous about being there during the holiday," I told Bruce Saturday night.

"If you want, I can come keep you company," Bruce offered, taking a bite of his pie.

"No, unfortunately outsiders aren't really allowed inside the asylum," I replied, stabbing my fork into my piece of pie.

"No, I mean, I can come in as Batman—no one has to know it's me, obviously. Maybe I could pay your friend the Joker a visit," Bruce laughed, taking another forkful of pie.

I laughed at the thought, but my face immediately went somber, "No that would be a horrible idea. I found out this week why he is the way he is and I don't think you should torture him while he's in a powerless situation,"

"Giada, you can't be serious—this man has killed countless numbers of innocent people and you feel the need to protect him in his current powerless situation?!" Bruce sounded offended. I guess I would be offended too if I were him.

"No, I'm not saying that what he did is right or wrong or anything—I just think, where…he doesn't want to kill you and you don't want to kill him…it would be too tempting for you to show up—although…it might make his day a bit less boring," I stated.

"Look, Giada, you can't expect me to feel or show any kind of remorse for the Joker—he's a raging psychopath who blew Gotham to high hell. As far as I'm concerned, he deserves to be locked in an asylum—and to be frank, he doesn't deserve you—not as a therapist, not at a friend, and certainly not as a lover," Bruce stated firmly. As hurt as I was by his comment, I knew it was true—the Joker had handled his tragic circumstances in quite an extreme and violent way, but that didn't mean it made it any easier on me. I had fallen in love. What was I to do?

"Then what would you have me do?" I asked suddenly, setting my fork down onto my plate.

"Have him reassigned, Giada. This is hurting you more than you know, having him on your caseload. He's getting to you and I can't say I'm surprised," Bruce explained, taming the fire that I could see was building within.

"I can't do that," I said softly.

"Why not?" he asked, slowly growing irritated.

"Because I love him, Bruce. You know that—you've always known that. I didn't choose to fall in love with him. It is something that happened by chance. I didn't plan it—it just happened. You know better that I do that you can't help who you fall in love with," I explained.

Bruce remained silent for a moment. He nodded his head, in control of his emotions, "I know. I just can't stand seeing you this paralyzed by one man—one man who's not even free to roam around. Giada, he's in your control—you have the power, and he is still the one in the position of power. Promise me you won't let this ruin you," Bruce took my hands into his strong hands. I nodded my head in agreement. I knew he was right. I couldn't let the Joker ruin me—not again.

"Good. Now let me get you in on a bit of information I found out this week about Pixie Dust," Bruce said in a serious tone.

"You found out something about that wench?" I asked, nearly exasperated by the sound of her name.

"Yes. I found out her real name. Her name is Kimberly Forks. She's from a suburban town in Florida, just outside of Tampa," Bruce explained. I nodded my head, taking a mental note of all that he told me.

"Do you know the name of the town?" I asked.

"Tarpon Springs I believe is the town," Bruce replied. "Apparently she wasn't always so revolting," Bruce laughed at my scowl.

"Impossible," I grimaced at the thought of her.

"Well, apparently she was engaged at one time in her life, but from what I gathered, she broke it off," Bruce explained. My eyes widened at this bit of information.

"Excuse me?" I asked, feeling my heart beat faster in my chest. My felt began flushing red as the Joker's story flashed before my eyes as it had Thursday night.

I could see his fiancée disgusted with his scars as he returned to her from Iraq. I saw his fiancée's unknown face. The face of Pixie Dust.

My head grew lighter as the world around me began to spin. Bruce jumped up from his chair, "Giada, what's wrong?!"

"I…I…I think I'm…going to faint," the words escaped me just as quickly as the darkness came over me.