Contrary to what she would have imagined before she was thrust into this situation, life with the Joker was relatively tame as she discovered over the next few weeks. He was usually busy outside of the hospital or with his men, and most of the day she was left alone to entertain herself by whatever means she could find on the fifth level of the hospital which were few. It was, dare she think it, monotonous. On the one hand, it was nice to not have to mince her words all the time, but she needed the interaction. Some nights she begged to join him on his frequent trips outside of the hospital, but he usually laughed before leaving her alone. It nearly forced her to tears every time.
But it wasn't all bad. The Joker had finally loosened up on her restrictions if only a little, and though she hadn't left the grounds since her first night out, he did allow her to venture out on the lawn to practice her shooting with an endless supply of rubber bullets as long as she was accompanied by Dougie who had apparently become her de facto guardian. A fact that Dougie never hesitated to let his feeling be known about with exasperated sighs and excessive frowning. And above all, he still refused to talk or even look at her, something that she found annoying to no end. At first she had figured he was so aloof from fear of the Joker, but as time went on, she could tell that he simply didn't like her. But she didn't care, if dealing with his overt aloofness was the price she had to pay for spending as much time outside as she wanted, then he could make faces at her all he wanted.
As a result of it being the only respite from intense boredom that she had available to her, she was getting much better at handling the gun. A few times a week, the Joker would venture down to the lawn to check her progress and make corrections as necessary. He never gave her any sign of approval, but she could tell that he was impressed with her progress by the slight twitch at the corners of his frown before he disappeared again for the rest of the day. It may have simply been what she wanted to see, but it didn't change the sense of pride bubbling up when it happened. It was strange. As hard as she tried to resist the effects of isolation, she could feel her sense of normalcy starting to warp having been cut off from the outside world.
Even though she knew everything that he had done to Gotham and was probably still doing now, having to interact with him on a daily basis made him seem less frightening. Still incredibly intimidating, but as time inched on, she was better learning how to navigate his mood swings, avoiding the worst of his abuse. But there were still occasional times when he would be rough for no reason. Punishing her for the smallest of slights and forcing her alone into her room for the rest of the night.
It was those nights that scared her the most. She could tell each time that he was closer and closer to the point of killing her out of pure misplaced rage. Nothing that she had tried so far had saved her from his wrath. Not begging, not complacency, and definitely not fighting back. She would never be strong enough to take him head on, and the one time she'd responded to his rage fits with violence had been the worst beating she'd had. Now she was quickly running out of options. And tonight, only days after her last misguided attempt as she sat on her bedroom floor in front of the window, she heard the heavy determined footsteps down the hall that told her this would be another one of those nights.
Her head shot up as she gasped, looking towards the door, nervously. These moments were becoming more and more frequent and she couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in the city that led to his outbursts but she wished he would stop.
She placed a hand on her rib, wincing as she felt the pain that was still there from his last attack only two nights before. She had to think of something.
Glancing down in front of her at the gun she had taken apart to clean, she pursed her lips, picking part of it up and beginning to reassemble it quickly. While her aim was still pretty crappy, she was getting relatively good at she was thinking was probably suicide but she had nothing left. She turned to the door nervously as the steps came closer, hands shaking as she fit the pieces together. As the steps sounded just outside the door, she finally grabbed the full magazine, shoving it into the gun as the door slammed open, dust flying from the concrete walls upon impact as a shadow blocked out the hallway light.
She gasped loudly, turning to look at the Joker who was looming in the doorway, his suit dirty and his frown permanent. "Hello sweet cheeks." He said with a terrifying grin, starting towards her; the stomping of his heavy shoes sounding twice as loud in the small space.
Arella quickly scrambled away from him before he could get within arm's reach and pushed herself off of the floor, raising the gun to point directly at him, trying not to show the fear that was mounting inside.
"Stop!" She ordered, as firmly as her nervousness would allow.
And to her surprise, he did.
He stood there for a long moment, eying her angrily as he glanced down at the gun, his grin turning down into a deep frown. Finally he smirked, tilting his head and sidestepping as she did the same, not wanting to lose her advantage. Testing her.
"Ella, did you forget? Those bullets aren't real. You won't kill me. But if you pull that trigger, I will kill you."
"They might not be real, but they'll still hurt like hell. And I don't want to kill you."
"I gotta say, I'm having a hard time believing you right now." He growled, his black eyes boring into hers. "Now that I think of it, I like this game. Tell ya what, if you can knock me down before I get a knife in your throat-ah, I'll let you live." He gave a sadistic smile,
"You'll never let me live, Joker." She replied softly, tears starting to fall from her eyes.
He only gave a dark chuckle. "Your lack of trust wounds me." He feigned a pained look.
"I trust you." She said simply, not lowering the gun. "You've always been a man of your word, right?"
He held his hands up, giving a non-committal shrug,
"I know that you're angry." She started, unsure of what she was trying to say. "And I'm sorry about that. But please, you nearly broke my ribs last time. If you keep this up, you'll kill me."
"You're point-ah?" He growled, beginning to get more and more annoyed.
The tension in the room was stifling. She wanted to pull the trigger so badly, but she was walking on thin enough ice already. He was already plotting a way around the gun to get to her, and if she didn't diffuse the situation quickly, pulling the trigger might be the last thing she did. At least right now he was listening, even if only to distract her. She took a deep breath instead, calming herself.
"If you kill me now, then who are you going to let your anger out on later? You can't keep killing your men, right?"
He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was getting at. It was a strange position they were in right now, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it. Didn't want to. Just wanted to wring her neck.
"If you attack me right now, you're mad enough that you're going to kill me. Please, Just lie down." She jerked her head towards the bed, not taking her eyes off of him. "And if you still want to hit me or kill me in the morning, then…fine. At least you'll have time to think about how you'll do it. But let me have tonight." She begged, crying now. "Please? I've never asked you for anything. I'll even lie down with you. I can't take it tonight."
There was a long uncomfortable silence before the same sadistic smile spread across his lips again.. "Ho ho. I like this even more. You're right, I don't want to kill you…yet. But tomorrow…ohh tomorrow. We are going to have so much fun." He clapped before tilting his head. "Bedtime then?"
She shook her head, still holding the gun. "Not until you give me your word that you won't hurt me tonight."
"I give you my word." He gave an overly dramatic bow, mocking her with a roll of the eyes before walking over to the bed, kicking his shoes off lazily, and flopping down onto the small bed with his back towards her.
Arella finally lowered the gun, letting out a relieved, teary sigh before tossing it on the nearby desk. Letting her hands come to rest on the edge, she gripped the table for dear life as her knees almost gave out from fear. She was almost positive that he would keep his word. He usually did, but he was also angry and probably not being completely rational. Running a hand through her hair, she looked over at the Joker who was taking up the majority of the bed, his arms crossed tightly in front of him as he faced the wall. Traces of makeup and hair dye had already started smearing a trail across the pillow and the thought of having to climb into bed kept her rooted to her spot. She wasn't sure where the hell she was going to lay, not comfortably anyway. But then again, tonight wasn't about being comfortable, it was about surviving.
"If you don't lie down, the deal's off." He grumbled at her, not rolling over.
She sighed again, walking over to the bed and crawling into the small space left between him and the wall, her whole body shaking as she did. She was terrified of what tomorrow might hold, but the fact that she didn't have to deal with it right now was almost enough to make her smile.
Hesitantly, she glanced over to see him staring directly at her, his eyes narrowed and still filled with anger. Quickly, she turned her eyes away, lowering herself to her side and almost entirely pressing herself against the wall, her hands pressed to her sides as she tried to relax in spite of the angry energy radiating from the madman behind her. Forcing her eyes closed, she held back the sobs that kept welling up in her throat as everything that had just happened hit her. She had pulled a gun on the Joker, threatened him when he was already angry. Maybe she should have taken the beating and moved on; this was torture. It took her over an hour to finally relax, wondering if the Joker might change his mind halfway through the night. But he never moved a muscle. So eventually she gave up trying and silently cried herself to sleep.
It was light out when she awoke to the feel of fingers trailing along her waist. Dread filled her immediately as she realized that the deal was over. She was at his mercy now. Forcing herself to remain still, she shut her eyes again, trying to buy herself a little more time…if only for a few moments. She felt his fingers traveling up her side, hesitating on the large bruise that she knew covered her ribs before moving over her shoulder and down her back carefully, almost barely touching her. Her body wanted to shiver from the contact. Her mind felt like she was intruding on something private and every nerve in her body was screaming at her to move. But she didn't, and finally the fingers stopped. There was a brief stillness before she felt the bed shift with his weight as he rolled over to his back.
She held her breath, listening to him sit up in the bed, shaking his head back and forth a few times as if trying to wake himself up, and standing. Her body braced itself for the blow that could be coming at any point in time, but nothing came. Instead, she heard the footsteps retreat from the room, slamming the door behind him and causing her to jump.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips when she finally was alone, stretching out in the bed. Her eyes trailed over to her pillow to see a grimy mix of black, red, white, and green along the white cloth. Maybe she could take it to the bathtub and soak it off later.
Later.
The word gave her pause as she realized that she wasn't out of danger yet. He could come back after he had taken time to wake up and refresh his makeup. Probably would actually. Her eyes drifted to the gun on the table where the gun still lay so innocuously. But she already knew that she didn't dare try that again.
With a purse of her lips, she rolled back over to face the wall and waited. If he wanted to attack her, she wouldn't make it difficult. Not if she had any hope of making any future deals. But he never came back. Not in the next hour, not for the rest of the day. And after staying on pins and needles all day, she finally allowed herself to sleep.
Outside of the hospital, the Joker spent the majority of the day roaming around the city, hanging around the Stacked Deck, and lounging on rooftops overlooking the city as he ignored both her and his men. He was angry. Angry that his plan the night before to ambush a money truck had gone terribly awry; angry that he had let her talk herself out of a punishment; and angry most of all that he had woken up...calm. He wanted to stab her for making him do it. Cut her throat just so he could remind her of who was really in charge. He had to physically stop himself at least twice that morning from barging into her room and doing just that. She had been right about one thing. He didn't want to kill her just yet. But he was going to have so much fun when he did. He had spent the entire night in her room lying there thinking of new and inventive ways to do it and he didn't want to waste his chance in a fit of rage.
He growled to himself as he walked through the narrows, his footfalls echoing through the empty streets of the narrows as he twirled his favorite knife in his gloved hands. Muttering about all the things he planned on doing to her when he was ready. Every now and then he'd make gleeful stabbing motions, imaging that she was on the receiving end, but it was highly unsatisfying each time. He frowned, looking around the street for someone…anyone to let his anger out on. It was nights like these that he wished the batman would show his face again. He always promised to be a good time. Instead he was left killing off members of the mob and the police force to satiate his thirst for action. When had Gotham gotten so boring?
It was like the whole of the narrows knew that the Joker was on the prowl. Nobody stirred outside and he was getting bored waiting. He could easily find a drug dealer, junkie, or small brained mob man to kill, but it was getting old. He wanted a challenge and Gotham just wasn't living up to the it lately. With another growl, he finally decided to head back to the hospital. He was going to have to think bigger and she was coming along for the ride, whether she liked it or not. Shoving the knife back into his pocket, he turned around a corner, heading back to his waiting van.
It was a couple of days later before she saw the Joker again, and the anticipation was killing her. She had finally decided to venture outside and work on her aim after figuring it would make no sense hiding in her room. If he wanted her, he would find her easily. In the meantime, she relaxed herself by shooting round after round into the far away trees.
After an hour, she let out an irritated sighed as the gun clicked empty again. The box of ammo would be empty now and she had put off having to decide between asking Dougie for more or simply heading back in. As she stare at the empty box, she chose the former. No use in cutting her own outside time short. She was sure the Joker would do enough of that for her…whenever she saw him again.
Frowning, she turned around to see Dougie chatting quietly with another one of Joker's men, glancing at her every few seconds as they laughed.
'So he did talk.' She mused, giving an annoyed scoff and sliding the gun in the back of her pants as she headed over to the pair. Both of the men both quickly quieted down when she approached while Dougie returned to the humorless expression that she had come to revile. The second goon on the other hand stared at her as if he was absolutely fascinated. She had to admit that it was nice to be looked at again, from anyone. These days she only earned contemptuous looks from Dougie and infuriating ones from the Joker. Everyone else avoided her like the plague. She ignored the man for the time being, however, as she turned to Dougie.
"Do we have anymore bullets?"
He flicked the toothpick in his mouth, staring at her blankly for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small box of rubber bullets and tossing them towards her.
She caught the small box easily, looking down at it with a disappointed frown. "Is this it?" She looked back up at him. "This won't last more than 15 minutes. "
"Tough." He muttered with a careless shrug.
She let out an annoyed growl, glancing back over to the second man who had yet to remove his eyes from her. He must have been one of Joker's less intelligent goons. There were plenty of those running around. With the smallest hint of a smirk, she wondered how stupid he really was and annoy Dougie in the process. Unlike the Joker and most of the goons running around, she didn't fear him. In fact, she found it somewhat fun to try to rile him up enough to speak.
"Hey." She finally said to him, forcing a small smile as her back straightened to make the most of the view. "What's your name?"
The man grinned, opening his mouth to answer before Dougie grabbed the man's collar with a frown and shoved him back into the open French doors.
"What the fuck, Dougie?" The man turned towards him angrily.
"Go inside and cool down before you get yourself killed." He muttered angrily, turning to glare at Arella.
The man straightened his jacket with a frown, giving Arella a last glance before storming inside.
She watched the man leave before turning to Dougie. "I was just saying hi." She crossed her arms with the smallest hint of a smirk.
He didn't reply, his face turning blank after a long moment before turning back to look at his gun like he always did when he was tired of her.
"Seriously?" She sighed, annoyed that his reaction had only lasted long enough for a single sentance. "I know the Joker won't let you talk to me, but do you have to be so rude about it? Maybe being forced to guard me wouldn't be so bad if we were, at least, civil to eachother."
Nothing. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Didn't look up.
"Oh this is absolutely ridiculous." She threw her hands up. "I'm being held here by a serial killer, a deaf mute, and a bunch of undersexed, testosterone driven, halfwits. This is great. No really, my life is just great right now." She shouted at him. "Not to mention-"
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw that familiar acid green head of hair stepping through the French doors, his lips pressed together as he stared at her.
Taking a step back, she quickly lowered her eyes to the ground nervously, trying in vain not to show the fear that she was feeling after everything that had happened the last time she had seen him. She could tell that Dougie was laughing at her, even if she couldn't hear or see it. She would be. The quick transition from emboldened shouting to jittery captive that happened with the mere presence of the Joker was enough to cause her immense embarrassment tempered with a mild annoyance that she couldn't control. Instead she forced herself not to look up, afraid to see the angry look that she was sure awaited her. He had stewed for days and it was a big possibility that whatever punishment awaited her if he was still set on doing so was going to be a creative one. And creative with the Joker always meant fear.
He stopped only a foot behind Dougie, slapping a hand on his shoulder with a tight smile. "Why don't you-ah…take a break Dougie? I think Ella and I will be just fine on our own."
Dougie smirked, giving her one last glance before turning and disappearing into the building as Arella kept her eyes on the ground.
The Joker watched him leave before walking closer towards her, circling around until he was behind her, hovering like a shadow.
She held her breath, beginning to feel faint as she continued to stare at the ground. Her heart was pounding in her chest. In her ears. She wanted to apologize for holding her gun on him in hopes that he would spare her the worst of it. But she had promised that she wouldn't. Wouldn't fight or bargain. She would take it.
Above her, the Joker stare down at her with an anger that was eating at the edges of his calm demeanor, begging to bubble over. It had taken him days to finally calm down enough to deal with her again. He wasn't angry at her anymore. Not entirely at least. He was still angry at himself. And that was often more dangerous than anything else. All it would take right now was a single remark, anything, and he would explode again. Everything was telling him that he shouldn't be out here, not yet. Having to do it was physically painful to him. It was rare that he had to interact with someone that had caused him so much anger further then driving a knife in their throats and he hated it. But he had every intention to take her out again soon, and he needed her prepared. The only small relief that was gained from having to be out here was that for as smart of a mouth she had, she was quickly learning when to shut up. Which was fortunate because right now her life depended on it.
Giving an annoyed frown, he reached down to the waist of her pants where she normally stashed her gun, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the weapon. He could feel her flinch slightly and partially expected her to turn around questioningly, but she was unmoving. Sliding the gun from its hiding place, he released the magazine, checking the empty clip and letting out a grunt. He hated seeing a weapon that wasn't ready to be used. It was useless and stupid. Snarling, he gripped the weapon tightly, feeling his knuckles turning white. Using his other hand to grab her shoulder he yanked her around so hard that she almost fell.
"What-ah. is the point of a gun. With no bullets?" He yelled at her, hurling the gun to the ground at her feet angrily, glaring at her with black eyes.
Arella could almost feel herself about to slip from consciousness from the pure unadulterated fear that she was feeling right now. But she forced herself to remain still, staring at the ground as he screamed at her. He was raging again. And nothing she could say right now would calm him down. She had tried that, multiple times, and except for the last time, it usually ended painfully. So she simply answered him, not bothering to even lift the box of bullets in her hand in an attempt to explain.
"None." She replied, barely above a whisper, doing everything in her power to keep her face blank. Any emotion that she displayed right now would only serve to egg him on. He thrived on fear and intimidation and was usually in no short supply.
"Where are they!" He barked at her in a way that gave the question an illusion of redundancy but it was anything but. She had heard him use this tone of voice before in a few of the videos sent the Gotham police force, but nothing could prepare her for the pure force of the primal shout in person. It was enough to jolt her to tears. But she set her mouth in a tight line, holding them back. She didn't want him to see her cry. Not anymore. And definitely not right now. As long as she avoided his gaze, she could pull it off.
Instead of answering him this time, for fear that he would force her to look at him, she simply bent down, grabbing the empty magazine and setting the box of bullets on the ground as she began swiftly loading. Finishing quickly she picked up the gun and clicked it in as she stood again, still avoiding his eyes as the gun was held limply at her side. She didn't want him to associate this with the last time they were in this position.
The Joker sneered at her, annoyed that she had taken the away the one reason he had left to yell at her, to punish her. She was a never ending source of frustration and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he kept her around. Even with all of her education and semblances of normal, he could tell after the first few weeks that she wasn't the average Gothamite. She was damaged. They were alike that way. But unlike him, she had subjected herself to her issues. Created them out of nothing. This thought infuriated him to no end. She had no right to pretend that life had been so hard for her. Not when people were struggling to survive every day in the violent city. But she was here now. And now she had a reason to cry. Something to fear, and he was going to twist her still.
Forcing her back around to face the target with a careless shove. He growled. "You've got ten shots to prove to me that letting you come out here wasn't a complete waste of time. If you don't hit the center with all ten, I am locking you back in your room until you rot."
Letting out a small, involuntary shudder she raised the gun to the target. Being extra careful to aim correctly and maintain an appropriate stance, she finally took a deep breath and began shooting, reassessing her position after each shot and ignoring his threat for the time being. After she finally reached ten, her hand fell to her side as she finished, waiting for his assessment. . She managed to hit the target all ten times, though shot 6 and 7 were barely on the edge. Hopefully it would be close enough to satisfy him.
The Joker squinted at the target, twisting his lips in an annoyed frown. She had hit the target which was impressive considering a few weeks ago she had never touched one, but it wasn't enough to make him want to be there at the moment. Nothing would. He was still dying to punish her for her attempt to avoid his anger before, but to his chagrin, she was doing everything right today in order to keep him from lashing out. It angered him even more. He had been forced to endure countless…therapeutic sessions during the many times he had been caught and placed into Arkham asylum. And while the hospital wasn't the worse place in the world. He absolutely hated the therapists who tried to understand him. Tried to fix him. When he refused to participate, they would often make wild accusations about why he was the way he was. An abusive childhood, a traumatic experience, some other speculation. They hadn't always been so far off, but the whole process infuriated him. And now, he couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to do that same. It was painful how much he wanted to strangle her right now. But he only clinched his fists, turning around towards the French doors and storming off, muttering to himself.
Arella hesitated for a moment, watching him walk away as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. Pursing her lips, she ejected the magazine and stuffed the gun in her pants, grabbing the bullets from the ground and scurrying after him. She wasn't sure where he was going, or even if she was supposed to be following, but when he didn't turn around she took it as a good sign. Trying to balance the box of bullets in one hand and a handful of bullets in the other as she walked, she shakily loaded the gun again, not wanting to be yelled at for leaving it empty. He was angry, but he had yet to attack her and though it was unusual, she didn't bother trying to figure out why. All she knew was that she wanted to keep it that way.
Stumbling after him, she was led down a series of hallways to what used to be a kitchen area. The Joker never bothered to look back at her as he growled occasionally, thinking. Finally, once they reached a large freezer door, he turned to glance at her over his shoulder, raising his brows with a frown as if surprised that she was behind him. With another grunt, he turned and opened the door, reaching behind him and grabbing the back of her neck without another look and pushing her roughly into the room ahead of him.
She stumbled, but kept her jaw clenched in order to stop herself from whimpering. The room was chilly, but she could immediately tell that it was probably more a fridge than a freezer. It was mostly empty expect for hooks hanging from the ceiling, one which hung heavily with the large corpse of a pig marked with "X"s in certain areas. Immediately, she knew what she was doing here and what he would want from her. She had seen it in a movie before and would almost chuckle to herself as she thought about the Joker watching movies if she wasn't nervous still.
Walking around to face her, the Joker sucked his cheeks for a moment studying her as he pulled a knife out of his pocket, tapping his collar bone with the blade and crossing his other arm across his chest. He was looking for any trace of defiance, an eye roll, an exasperated sigh, anything. But there was nothing aside from the flashes of fear that seemed to be present in her eyes with each passing few seconds of silence.
The tension in the room filled the air like a suffocating fog as the two stood there, staring at the other as they both tried to figure out what it was that had changed between them since the last night. Why she had become so cooperative, and why he had lost nearly all traces of humor and boundary issues. He didn't want to touch her, not any more than he had to.
She broke eye contact first, turning her eyes towards the ground again as she waited. It seemed to break him out of his thoughts as well as he finally shoved the knife into her hands with another grunt.
"You need to learn how to aim with a knife." He said gruffly, walking around to the other side of the pig. "All of your mindless swinging is only going to get you killed."
She was silent, glancing at the pig as she waited for him to continue. She hated this. Hated this uncertainty. And though she never thought she'd say it, she wished she had simply dealt with the beating at the time. At least it would have been done and over with after that. Now he seemed as if he didn't know what he wanted to do with her. And that made her uneasy. Maybe if she made him angry enough, he would simply hit her and they could move on. But as much as she thought it could help, she couldn't force herself to willingly provoke him. Not when she was in a normal state of mind. But the silent treatment could only last for so long before she found herself losing her mind again. For now, she would suck it up and deal with it because there were so many worse things she could have to deal with right now than his ever changing moods. With an unheard sigh, she turned to him as he began explaining areas to stab. Humorless and impatient. They spent the next hour in the cooled area, him watching her silently and only making corrections once or twice. When the hour was up, he simply snatched the knife away from her and walked out of the room without a word.
She turned and stared at his back as he walked off, wondering if she should say something. But she didn't, instead she simply followed again. She followed him all the way up to the fifth floor, even as he ignored her. And it wasn't until he disappeared into his room, slamming the door in her face that she finally stopped with a sigh, sulking away to her own.
**I love love LOVE the tension between Arella and the Joker at this point. I could go on forever like this but all tension has to come to a head. :)
**Also, Thanks Nemesis, Anonit, and Pangea for reviewing and reading. You guys are awesome. And hope you continue to enjoy it!
**Finally, Please don't forget to review everyone! Is there anything you guys would like to see in the story? I have it mostly written at this point, but I can always sneak in some fun stuff. Thanks again!