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47. Phone Call

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The next morning, I awoke to find myself lying in my bed…next to Bruce Wayne. My eyes fluttered open and glanced over to see him staring down at me.

"Giada you nearly gave me a heartattack!" he exclaimed, his face mixed with fury and compassion.

"I am so sorry," I mumbled as I sat up in bed and shook my head. Judging from the pit in my stomach, I hadn't forgotten at all why I had fainted in the first place.

"Would you care to tell me why you were so quick to black out on me last night?" Bruce inquired, pursing his lips together. I took in a deep breath and rubbed my hands over my face.

"Pixie is the Joker's ex fiancée," I muttered from behind my hands. I couldn't even bear the sound of hearing it aloud. It sounded horrible inside my head, but actually hearing it aloud nearly sent me running for the butcher knife. I was going to kill Pixie if it was the last thing I did.

"Pixie is what?" Bruce asked, genuinely confused.

"The Joker's ex fiancée!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, incredulous at my revelation.

"Because he told me in our session that when he got back from war his fiancée left him because of the scars," I exclaimed, more livid than I had felt in years.

"But you don't know for sure if this is the same situation—was he from Tarpon Springs?" Bruce asked. I shook my head. I hadn't asked him where he was from. I just knew it grew up in a suburb. I didn't even know which state he grew up in. Maybe I had jumped to conclusions. It all seemed to fit in my head though—the images I kept getting of his ex fiancée ending things with him—it worked when she had Pixie's face.

"I'll ask him on Tuesday," I said finally, rolling out of bed.

"Well, Thursday is Christmas Eve," Bruce stated.

"And…?" I asked, turning towards Bruce just as I was about to head into the hallway.

"And I am not sure that it is a good idea for you to work on the holiday—you mentioned you were working Christmas Eve and if it turns out that she is his ex fiancée, you can't go psychopath on the patients and go on a killing spree or something. Giada, I see the utter hate in your eyes whenever I mention the name 'Pixie'. I know how much you hate her, and deservedly so—and I can only imagine how much you'll hate her if what she did to the Joker before you even met him is in fact, truth," Bruce explained as he moved from the bed to meet me in the hall.

I licked my lips and sighed, "Bruce, I don't want to hate anybody—but this woman—I just can't find it in myself to forgive her—anything! She's truly the bane of my existence. If she is his ex fiancée, well she got rid of him once—the fact that she could have had him forever but decided to give up on him is bad enough—but if I find out she is his ex fiancée and knowing all of that, in addition to the fact she erased his memory of my out of her own jealousy when she COULD have had him in the past—well that is inexcusable. She doesn't deserve to live another day and mark my words, Bruce—as long as I'm still alive—she won't be,"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bruce had insisted he join me on Tuesday, just in case my hunch on Pixie was confirmed by my primary source, the Joker. I felt maybe he was right, since I had a hunch I just might declare jihad on all of Arkham Asylum if I did find out it was true.

On Tuesday, just a day and a half before Christmas Eve, Bruce sat in my office, ready to catch me when I would come flying into my office from my session with the Joker. I did, however, make him promise not to stay through the evening, since it was so close to Christmas Eve and wasn't sure if he had any shopping or anything to attend to—I didn't want to subject him to that.

I sat in the session room, tapping my pen furiously. I tapped it faster than ever as I awaited the arrival of my patient. At exactly the same time he would arrive everyday prior to this session, the door unlocked from the outside and the Joker shuffled into the room. He took his seat across from me. The grin he wore coming into the room quickly slipped away from his mouth as he caught sight of my anxious and serious expression.

"Good evening, Giada," the Joker greeted me, trying to forced a smile onto my face by smiling his own very special smile.

"Same to you, Joker," I retorted as I slammed his chart onto the table and began extracting my notes from it. I was too damaged inside my head to even realize he had called me Giada. He never really addressed me by anything prior to this, except our first session when he had called me Giada, but I again, was too anxious to notice.

"Doing the overnight shift?" he asked, licking his lips and leaning towards me.

"Yes I am—my first one. I'll be getting a nice fat paycheck for this shift," I forced a smile onto my face.

"And you'll be working this…Thursday…Christmas Eve?" he asked, licking his lips again and raising his eyebrows.

"Yes—like I said, I'll be getting a real nice paycheck for it," I responded flatly, still engrossed in his chart.

"It's not really about the money though, is it, Giada?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. My eyes shifted to his as my head piqued from hearing my name escape his lips for what I believed to be the first time to me.

"Well, no, I guess it's not—but it is nice to have money to pay the bills," I said slowly, cautiously watching his face and looking for any clue that might reveal to me why he referred to me by my name.

"To me, it's all about sending a message—you know. You work here because you enjoy prodding and prying into the minds of your patients—you need to understand why they do the things they do—why they say the things they say," the Joker explained, licking his lips again.

The Joker had to know what was running through my mind. I decided in that moment, I knew what I had to do. I had to ask him exactly what I needed to know—where he was from—the state and town. I couldn't be distracted any further. The only question would be if I could handle his answer for the rest of our session if he ended up confirming my belief.

"I forgot to ask you last week about where you're from," I began, ignoring his comments and trying to remain calm, though I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

"Mm," he sounded as he narrowed his eyes, not once removing his gaze from mine.

"What state and town did you grow up in?" I asked finally.

"Tarpon Springs…Florida," he said slowly. As our eyes locked, I knew from his gaze he knew exactly why I had asked that question. In that moment, we had a mutual understanding—I knew his secret about Pixie because I figured it out. He would never admit it to me.

"Great, thanks for answering that one," I said shortly as I jotted down the information in my notes from last week.

To my pleasure, the session ended quite quickly, mostly because I rushed through my questions and got him back to his room in record time. I hurried back to my office and slammed the door behind me.

"It's true! He's from Tarpon Springs, Florida!" I huffed to Bruce as I stumbled over to the couch where he sat.

"So then your theory is true as well," Bruce said quietly.

"Yes," I said as I closed my eyes tightly and placed my head into my heads. Bruce rubbed my back.

"It'll be okay Giada. These things always work out. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be out tonight—as Batman. If I find her, I'll catch her—she is a criminal, after all. She's been causing quite a raucous in Gotham with her botanical dusts,"

"Bruce, if Batman catches her he won't kill her," I spoke softly as I turned my head to face him.

"No, no he won't—but he will turn her in—"

"No. If you catch her tonight, you hold on to her until I get home so I can finish her off," I demanded suddenly.

"Giada, you know I can't—"

"Bruce, if you catch her, you need to hold on to her—you won't be the one killing her—you won't break your one rule. I'll kill her—I have no rules,"

"You're starting to sound a lot like the Joker,"

"Big surprise, huh. I only spent the better part of a year with him engaging in criminal activity. I should sound like the Joker—he taught me all I know," I chuckled, shaking my head at the memories that now flooded my thoughts.

"Giada, please—you're better than this," Bruce pleaded, "You're so strong to have made it this far. I know this hurts you, but you can't let it bring you down. You've worked so hard for this,"

"All for it to be shattered—so I can become the person I'd been trying to run from all these years—Jade," I explained, nearly trembling.

"No, Giada," Bruce shook his head and held me in his arms, "You're better than Jade—you don't need the face paint, the costume…the Joker,"

I was sobbing now, unable to stop the tremors. "Shh, Giada, it's okay," Bruce held me close to him. He felt so warm and inviting. His sweet and musky scent overwhelmed me, but to a point that I was elated. I didn't want him to let me go. I felt safe in his arms—like I could do no more harm to myself. It was where I should have stayed, perhaps where I should have ended up in the first place.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bruce had to leave in the early evening after my final therapy session. I was reluctant to let him go, but I knew if he left sooner rather than later, he'd have more time on the streets at Batman—this meant my chances of him finding Pixie were greater. The asylum began shutting down; save for a couple other employees, mostly guards, on each of the floors, I was one of two attending therapists and clinicians who could prescribe medication on staff this evening. I sat at my desk typing away on my computer, surfing the internet and basically waiting for 5:30 so I could administer meds. Well, 5:30 came faster than I thought it would. I left my office and went up to the 6th floor. I administered meds to all of the patients on my side of the hallway. Nelle Johnson, the other NP was administering meds on the other side of the floor. I was relieved I didn't have to do the entire floor—it would have taken forever. I was taken back when I came to patient 4479. I had forgotten I was on the Joker's side of the hall. My heart jumped. I hated administering him meds. He didn't need them. I checked his chart and decided against the Clozarine. Surely Dr. Princeton would be upset that I deliberately went against his instruction on starting the anti-mania drug, but I was certain that by medicating the Joker, nothing would change him—there was really nothing all that wrong with him, per se. I didn't understand why Dr. Princeton had also prescribed Xanax, so I opted out of giving him that as well. He didn't seem to express much anxiety. I passed by his door and glanced inside. He was sitting on his bed, staring out the window—right at me. I rushed away from his room and finished the rest of my med pass.

It wasn't until 7:15 that I arrived back to my office. I hated giving out meds. It took forever. Two floors of patients, but only half a floor for each, thanks to having Nelle working this evening as well. I wasn't all that used to the longer shifts at the asylum. This shift, my first all day and evening shift, w as beginning to take its toll on me.

I sat in my office and felt my eyelids beginning to droop. It wasn't even all that late—I felt like some old woman—tired at 7:30. I was just beginning to drift off into an unwanted cap nap when there was a knock at my office door. Startled by the unexpected rapping on the heavy door, I jumped up from the desk and opened the door. My heart sank at the man before me.

"Dr. Princeton, what are you doing here this evening? Is everything alright?" I asked, still a bit shocked at his appearance in the asylum.

"Well, I made it home this evening and realized that you were here this evening as well as Christmas Eve all day and night. While I expect that you will perform your sessions and administer meds regularly, I had this…overwhelming feeling that you were going to…forget…to administer the new meds to patient 4479. I came here to make sure the Xanax and Clozaril were administered to the patient,"

My heart definitely stopped. I didn't know what to say, so I nodded my head, "Yes…yes I administered both," I squeaked finally.

"Right,"

He knew I was lying. I was so screwed. "Dr. Princeton, I administered the Clozarine, but I didn't administer the Xanax. I didn't feel it was necessary," I spoke finally. His face turned from red to purple to blue. I had never seen his face look so angry.

"Why would you neglect to follow my physicians' orders?" he demanded finally, almost trembling in anger.

"Because the patient isn't expressing any kind of anxiety. I know I should have consulted with you first, that was my mistake, but I couldn't risk overmedicating a patient—especially when he doesn't need them," I explained.

"That is not your decision to make," he snapped.

"I understand that, but since he is both your patient and mine, it is also my responsibility as one of his caregivers to make sure he is properly medicated to best of my knowledge and ability," I continued, really gaining strength on my argument.

"I am the physician. You are not," he growled, "I am going up there and administering the Xanax myself.," he turned to head down the hallway, but paused and turned towards me again, "Patient 4479 is a criminal mastermind and you want to give him a fair break," he muttered and then huffed down the hallway.

I slammed the office door closed and sat down behind my desk again. That damn doctor! I hated him—he was completely awful. The Joker really did not need any of those medications. Maybe the Clozarine wouldn't hurt him, but he Xanax was just unnecessary. Good thing I didn't tell him the Joker didn't receive the Clozarine either. I think his head would have blown up!

I sat at my desk once again. It truly felt like this night would never end. I watched as the clock struck 10:15. I wondered if Dr. Princeton would come back and lecture me further on my negligence with the Joker. I rolled my eyes at the thought and decided to check my email for the fortieth time that hour. I was just about the open some unread mail when my pager beeped. I looked at the number and picked up the phone. I dialed the asylum number and Joel, the nighttime security guard for the 6th floor picked up.

"Hi, Giada, there is a patient up here who is requesting to meet with you—something about medications?" Joel spoke into the phone.

"Okay," I said, tilting my head to the side in confusion, "What is the ID number? I'll be right up,"

"4479—the Joker," he whispered into the receiver.