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72. Give in to Me

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Disclaimer: I am so sorry I have updated in the longest time! I was taking classes this summer so that I can apply to nursing school this fall/winter—so I apologize!! I hope you all forgive me!!! The title of this chapter is named for an MJ song—very good—take a listen…from his Dangerous album! The lyrics are kind of a back and forth demonstration of the Joker's feelings towards Giada and her feelings towards him. The italicized/bold lyrics are the Joker and the regular are Giada. You will see these lyrics appear later on in this chapter to some extent. I do not own them! They belong to the late Michael Jackson!

She always takes it with a heart of stone
'Cause all she does is throws it back to me
I've spent a lifetime looking for someone
Don't try to understand me
Just simply do the things I say

Love is a feeling
Give it when I want it
'Cause I'm on fire
Quench my desire
Give it when I want it
Talk to me, woman
Give in to me
Give in to me

You always knew just how to make me cry
And never did I ask you questions why
It seems you get your kicks from hurting me
Don't try to understand me
Because your words just aren't enough

Don't try to tell me
Because your words just aren't enough
Love is a feeling
Quench my desire
Give it when I want it
Takin' me higher
Talk to me, woman
Love is a feeling
Give in to me
Give in to me
Give in to me

Love is a Feeling
I don't wanna hear it
Quench my desire
Takin' me higher
Tell it to the preacher
Satisfy the feeling
Give in to me
Give in to me

I don't wanna
I don't wanna
I don't wanna hear
Give in to the fire
Talk to me, woman
Quench my desire
Not like a lady
Talk to me, Baby
Give in to me

A part of me didn't even hear those three words I had so longed to hear for nearly three years; and they almost flew by me as quickly as they had been uttered. But, to the Joker's dismay, my willful ears picked up every millisecond it took his lips and voice to say those words. My face was already warm, and my already accelerated heart only beat faster. As he rolled off of me in his dramatic finish, he let loose the butterflies that had been swirling inside my stomach.

"You what?!" I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. He had already closed his eyes, ready to drift off into a deep slumber. He cracked one eyelid open and glanced at me from his peripheral.

"Hm?" he grumbled, completely unaware of what he had just said to me.

"You love me. You just said it," I stated, matter-of-factly.

"No—no I didn't," he retorted groggily.

"Yes. Yes you did—don't take this way from me! I've waited nearly three years to hear you tell me you love me back and you finally did—don't deny it! You sort of 'sighed' it…when you came. It was like, 'Ahhhhiiiiiii lohhhve hyooouu too'" I demonstrated.

He was silent for a moment, probably thinking about how he was going to get himself out of this. He clearly wasn't ready to tell me—or maybe he figured he could tell me and I would not hear him. A rather unlikely story! I remained by his side, letting him lose himself in thoughts, until I finally glanced over at him and saw his chest rising and falling rhythmically. That bitch fell asleep!

"Wake up!" I shrieked into his ear as I shook him harshly.

"Sons of bitches!" he growled as he jolted awake. He turned his head toward me and glared at me through narrow eyes.

"Admit you said it," I spoke softly, not wanting to anger him. He had already cut my face once in a jealous rage—I wasn't about to let him cut the rest of my body into little pieces because I woke him from sleeping. He groaned and then turned over on his side, away from me.

Feeling my heart sink into my stomach, crushing the butterflies, I followed his lead and turned over onto my side, turning out the light while I nestled into the bed. Maybe I could press the matter further in the morning when he was rested and in a better state of mind. Or maybe he would bring it up in the morning when he's not so tired. But when is the Joker in a state of mind that is predictable? I had just experienced a complete 180—he told me he loved me and then five seconds later, denied saying anything at all. He either honestly didn't remember, he doesn't want to remember, is wishing he didn't say anything at all, or doesn't know how to confront his real feelings on the matter, good or bad. Somehow, I needed to turn off my brain for the evening—I needed sleep too. I had also needed time away from the Joker, and I certainly didn't get that! Knowing my luck, I would toss the night away in a restless sleep, contemplating all meanings of the phrase "I love you…I never said that". Go figure. Leave it to the psych nurse with her master's in cognitive psych to have that said to her. It was like some kind of cruel joke. I suppose, being with the Joker and having it said to me by the Joker is quite fitting. He is a man of Jokes…hence being the Joker.

Ahh! My thoughts are rambling! I really had to turn off my thoughts. I wished there was some kind of medication I could take that would just knock me out. Heh—oxycodone would do the trick. Damn it! Brain—just shut the fuck up!

I remained in bed only a couple of more moments before I finally uncovered myself and stood to my feet. The Joker was out like a light, curled up on the other side of the bed. I quietly and swiftly moved through the city-lit room, searching for my clothes. In a couple of fast, smooth motions, I dressed myself, grabbed my room key, and headed out the door. It wasn't too late—only around 11:45. There were definitely some good things going on in town with which I could occupy my busy mind.

The Boston night air was crisp, but not too cool. The breeze sent a chill up and down my spine as I stepped onto the street, but the moistness from the ocean quickly warmed me as I walked towards the North End. I made my way past Government Center and Haymarket and finally crossed over 93 to Hanover Street—the main drag of Boston's North End. Immediately, the smell of garlic, basil, fresh bread and pasta, and the sound of old Italian men speaking Italian permeated my senses. It was good to be home. The street was packed with locals and tourists, all enjoying the nice evening. I glanced through the windows of the Italian restaurants as I passed by them, seeing the couples eating homemade meals in the dim light. I always found the North End restaurants to be both fun and romantic. You were pretty much always guaranteed a good meal wherever you decided to eat.

I finally made it to my favorite café—Café Vittoria. They served the best tiramisu in town! Or in my opinion, the world. I made my way to the back of the café and sat down in my favorite seal by the stairs. There was a cigar room below the café where people could go and roll their own cigars and drink espresso.

"What'll you have?" the waitress asked as she took out a piece of paper.

"A piece of tiramisu and a shot of limoncello," I stated, handing her my ID. She nodded once, handed me my ID and left. I leaned back in my chair and took in the atmosphere. It had been so long since I had last been in this place—it almost felt foreign. To think I had gone there so often when I was back in college almost seemed like a lifetime ago. I couldn't believe how much I had learned, experienced, dealt with, in just a matter of six to seven years.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, and with it, all the delicious scents of the café cappuccinos, espressos, desserts and cigars from the stairs leading to the basement.

"Here's your tiramisu and your limoncello," the waitress said as she placed the drink and plate down onto the small round table. I opened my eyes and smiled up at her.

"Thank you very much,"

She smiled back and placed the check down on the table between the menu and the napkin holder, "Whenever you are ready,"

I nodded my head and she left once more. I took the little glass of limoncello and did a silent toast to myself, to being a stronger person I thought, and then took a sip from the glass. The sharp taste of lemons and the heat of the alcohol slid down my throat. It had been eons since my last glass of limoncello! I was distraught at my near-intolerance for it!

Grabbing the spoon, I dug into my tiramisu and let the light, creamy dessert melt in my mouth. I was just about to be overwhelmed by the incredible flavor of the cream and the kahlua, when I was suddenly interrupted by a man.

"Care to join me for a…cigar?" I turned my head towards the inquiry and nearly spit out my tiramisu all over the table.

"What are you doing here?!" I exclaimed, then forced my voice into a more hushed exclamation, "How did you know I'd be here?!" I was completely astonished that I could barely breathe.

The Joker made his way all the way up the stairs and stood beside my table, "I know you better than you give me credit for, Miss DiMarco," he remarked with a cunning grin.

"But…I left you sleeping,"

"You thought I was sleeping? Giada—you know me better than that!" he retorted, almost seeming disappointed in me. I frowned and then took another sip of my limoncello.

"You look good," I said finally, setting my glass down and looking at him up and down. He had opted out of wearing his Joker clothes and makeup—probably since he was on Boston's Most Wanted List after the last time he was in the city. We had killed that cop…

"Not what I would chose for myself, but if I'm going to…enjoy…myself with you this evening…in public, I might as well…do…something about that," he responded, raising his eye brows as his tongue swept across his lower lip.

"Well, I've never been a huge fan of cigars, but I suppose there's no harm in trying one," I replied, taking my plate and glass of tiramisu into my hands.

"Of course," the Joker smirked and led the way down the stairs. I took the limoncello and tiramisu with me as I followed behind the Joker, to the cigar room.

A cloud of tobacco circled and consumed me as I trailed behind the Joker, all the way to a secluded table in the corner of the dimly lit room. The room itself always had an Italian mafia feel to it, but the Joker added a macabre even without his face paint, that only I could appreciate.

I took a seat across from the harlequin of hate and flashed him a subtle grin, to which he responded with a quick flash of his teeth and then averted his eyes across the room. When he saw that no one else in the room felt the need to watch the two of us, he focused his attention on me as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned in close to me. Flicking the scars inside his mouth with the tip of his tongue, his dark eyes stared hard at me from under his brows. I gulped nervously and sat back in my chair, crossing my legs.

"So—no face pain tonight huh," I stuttered anxiously, darting my eyes about the room, avoiding his at all costs.

"Giada, look at me," he demanded, his voice low and hushed. Startled by the tone and urgency in his voice, I swung my eyes into position and locked with his.

He glanced to his peripheral for a quick moment and then ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "Giadaaaa," he sighed, and looked down at the table. He lifted his right hand, raised his eyes again to meet mine, and touched the corner of my mouth where he had cut me.

"What? Is it bad?" I asked, touching the other side of my face where the other scar mirrored the one he touched.

"No—now you are like me," he grinned a sardonic grin.

"I suppose you could say I'm like you in that I now have scars that extend from my mouth, but that is the extent to which I am like you," I retorted curtly, still angry with him for what he had done earlier.

"Now Giada, sweeeetheart, you don't mean that," he crooned, trying to suck me into his world of crazy mind games—trying make me believe he actually loved me.

"I'm through beating around the bush with you, Joker. You said you loved me tonight and then you denied it," I snapped back at him, not once breaking our eye contact.

He shifted uneasily in his chair. He knew I would bring this up, but perhaps he figured I would have let it go.

"Love is a woman," he replied finally, unsure of how I would respond.

"Love is a feeling," I corrected him, knowing full well that he claimed to be incapable of feeling emotions.

"You always knew just how to make me cry and I never did ask you questions why," I stated, hoping deeply he would take back all he said.

"Don't try to understand me, just do the things I say," the Joker replied, seeming to get a bit riled up at where this conversation was headed. His dark eyes had fire in them, but I couldn't tear mine from his. His hair was messily pulled behind his head in a hair tie. His torso was adorned with a button down shirt and a pair of fitted, dark blue jeans, ripped at the left knee, covered him from the waist down. I couldn't back down. I wanted him to be mine and I wasn't going to stop until he admitted to me he loved me—that he was capable of feeling emotion.

"Love is a feeling," I repeated myself, ready to go on with the rest of my speech on how I knew he could feel emotion.

"Then give it when I want it," he demanded, not nearly as harshly as I would have anticipated. I tilted my head, unsure of what exactly he meant by that. Did he confirm his feelings? Did he just demand my love for him when he wanted it?

"The way I see it," he continued, "love is a woman, so you need to …quench my…desire," the Joker licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. I knew he was hiding behind this 'love is a woman' bullshit. He knew very well what love was and what it meant to love someone. He was engaged to Pixie Dust, for Christ's sake!

"Don't try to tell me. I don't wanna hear it," I flared back at him, anger rising in my eyes. "If your desire is merely lust, then I don't want any part in that,"

"Giada, when I'm with you, I'm on fire—you have to quench my desire. You need to give in to me," the Joker responded, almost desperately. My heart nearly stopped. I never would have anticipated the Joker seeming desperate about anything. I averted my eyes away from his for a moment to regain control of myself before speaking.

"Don't try to tell me, because your words are just not enough," I responded calmly.

"Then what do you want from me?" he asked finally, his eyes burning, not in anger at me, but burning for me. I was always able to tell when someone looked upon me with a burning desire. There was no way he didn't love me.

"I want you to give in to me," I retorted, my eyes burning with the fire I'd felt for him since the day we met.