The doctor left without a word. It had taken nearly two hours for him to pull out the offending bullet, stich up the wound, and attach a couple bags of blood to an IV in his arm. All of the dirty equipment had been removed or cleaned, but the smell remained. The stifling mix of blood and sweat that mixed with her own to the point that she wasn't sure where his stench stopped and her's started. She was filthy, but the idea of taking a shower now was terrifying. Almost as terrifying as the idea of sleep. So she would do without them both in hopes that she could keep herself alive.
Moving her chair closer to the table after the slam of the door told her that she was alone, she stood briefly to grab an old cloth and the metal dish the doctor had been using to hold the extracted bullet; filling it with water before plopping back down heavily in the chair. With the Joker indisposed and no prying eyes, her curiosity was quickly getting the best of her. It had been a long time since she'd been able to look at him with no makeup and even when she had he was so annoyed by her stares that she hesitated to study him for too long.
The sounds of the door opening caused her to gasp, grabbing the gun next to her and pointing it at the doorway.
"What, you gonna shoot me again?" Dougie muttered, scowling at her and walking into the room, still cradling his arm that was wrapped tightly with a dirty cloth.
She watched him suspiciously as he made his way to the doctor's bag, pulling out what he needed and flopping down in a chair on the far side of the room. Once she was sure that he wasn't interested in trying to kill her at the moment, she set the gun back on the table.
"I'm sorry." She said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.
"No you're not." He scoffed, focusing on untying the cloth.
She pursed her lips, not bothering with arguing with him as she wrung out the wet cloth and focused on wiping off the dirty makeup. Her hands moved stiffly across his face, all too aware of Dougie still sitting nearby. It was rare that she had to be in a room with both of them at the same time and she expected him to stop her from cleaning the makeup. But there was nothing.
He was quiet for a long moment, pretending to focus on bandaging up his wound, but she could tell that he was staring at her more often than not. Making sure that she wasn't doing anything that she shouldn't be and checking the monitors to make sure that everything was at it should be.
Her eyes drifted over to him briefly, catching his angry glare before snapping her attention back to cleaning off the makeup.
"He's just going to kill you." Dougie said matter-of-factly, his voice breaking the thick silence in the room as he grabbed the bottle of alcohol and pouring it onto the wound.
She was silent, her hands faltering for a moment before she continued.
"I know." She said softly, not looking up at him.
"Then why are you still here?" He muttered, grabbing the gauze and unrolling it gingerly around his arm.
"I don't know." She said with an unheard sigh. She could tell that he was still annoyed that she was still here and since attempting to kill her had turned out to be less than fruitful, he was trying another tactic. "Why are you?" She asked the question that had been on her mind since she'd gotten here.
He stopped trying to tie the bandage for a moment, looking up at her suspiciously.
"It's none of your business." He muttered, going back to trying to tie the bandage with one hand, his fingers fumbling with the knot.
Arella stare at him for a moment, annoyed with his feeble attempts that seemed to be taking much longer than necessary. She didn't want him sitting there, eyeing her. Not right now. Not when she was finally alone.
Setting the rag down with a sigh, she sat back in the chair with a quick stretch before moving over towards him with a roll of the eye. Even after their tussle outside, she wasn't sure she could ever be afraid of Dougie, especially not with the Joker in the room.
"Let me do it." She muttered, holding out her hand for the gauze. "You look ridiculous."
He let out a slow breath, wanting badly for her to move away from him. "I don't need your help." He said lowly, his muscles tightening.
"Noted. But the faster you get this tied, the faster you can go away. Now give it to me."
Raising his head, he stare at her for a moment, surprised by her snarky tone. Finally, with a roll of the eyes, he shoved the gauze in her hand roughly, turning away so that he at least didn't have to look at her.
For a long time they sat there as she silently wrapped the gauze around his arm being a little rougher than necessary but not rough enough that he could tell she was doing it on purpose. Instead he just cringed with every tight wrap, his eyes steadied on the Joker's half cleaned face.
"They're your fault." He said, barely above a whisper. He hadn't dared to broach the subject previously because it was something that He'd preferred not to talk about. But it was the one thing that would get to her. And the one thing that he'd been holding in since the day he realized.
She paused, looking up at him for a moment before following his gaze. "What are you talking about?" She said carelessly.
"His face." He snapped at her. "Those are your fault."
"Yea, I get it. Everything's my fault." She said with a roll of the eyes, not understanding what he was talking about in the least and not caring to ask him to elaborate.
"Oh you have no idea." Dougie said with a short, humorless chuckle as she finally tied off the bandage. "You ever wonder what happened to that kid that so graciously saved your life all those years ago?" He paused for dramatic effect as he studied her face, enjoying the change in her bored expression as her mouth dropped in horror.
She stepped away from Dougie and turned slowly over to the table as if she didn't want to look at the image that awaited her. The same face that was so comforting only hours before. She stare at the half of his face that she had already removed the makeup, trying to decide if she believed him. She didn't want to. But she couldn't help but think about the day that she had been almost certain they were one in the same.
"How?" She whispered, not turning her attention away from his face.
"How?" He repeated, looking at her stupidly even as she kept her back towards him. "How do you think? Do you think grown men enjoy being told what to do by a teenager? You'd think by now that you would figure out how not to get yourself in these ridiculous situations."
A large lump protested as she tried to swallow it back, lowering her head slightly as she tried to process the accusations. She hadn't been crazy that day even though he'd laughed so hysterically at her at the time.
"He said that his name was Jack." She said softly.
"No one uses their real name on the streets." Dougie muttered.
Shaking her head, she frowned in protest, straightening up her posture.
"You're lying." She turned to him finally, lowering her hands in fists at her side.
Dougie stood slowly, staring at her indignantly "Why the fuck would I lie about that?"
"Who knows why you do anything? You're insane just like everyone else in this building." She yelled at him, outraged that he would have even brought the situation up. "I didn't have anything to do with his face and it's not my fault that he's lying here now. Where were you during any of it anyway? Because for all the wounds he has, it seems like you've always made it out without a scratch."
He let out a slow, shaky breath, staring at her coldly as he finally stepped back away from her, his face instantly turning red with unvocalized anger. Letting his eyes flick down to the gun just inches from her hand, his mouth twitched before he decided that he was done with the interaction. Spinning on his heels, he started out of the room, pausing at the door to turn his head slightly towards her.
"If he dies…you die." He said simply before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
Arella watched him leave, the anger still boiling to the point that her ears were ringing. Once he disappeared, she grabbed the wet rag again defiantly, plopping into the chair and begging to remove the makeup again like she had been before Dougie interrupted. But she couldn't stop her hands from shaking and she couldn't stop her eyes from rolling over every inch of skin that she uncovered. Her brows furrowing as she thought back to that night. It wasn't hard, she'd written down every detail and relived every moment in her dreams. It only took Dougie's small nudge, and suddenly it all became so heartbreakingly clear.
She'd never forgotten that face, even with the scars that she'd been the cause of. Those long legs that only took one step when she ran three, the easy laughter at her smart comments, and most of all, as she worked on removed the last of the makeup, she'd never forget those eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what she knew in the back of her mind even through her angry tirade: that Dougie had been telling the truth. He was hers. He was her Walter. Letting her fingers trace over the bubbles of his scars, she thought of what may have happened. Thought of the disgusting man outside of the club slicing through the boy's cheek. Though of the pain. And all because of her. Her second chance had cost him his. And she wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself for it.
It suddenly became hard to breathe as a heavy sadness consumed her worse than that dark night in the bathroom so many weeks ago. Letting her eyes roam desperately over his still body, she looked for any signs of movement. Tried to will him to wake up. She needed him. So much more now than she thought she ever would but he didn't move. Letting out a choked sob, she finally conceded to lay her head onto his bare, unmoving shoulder as she cried. Maybe she did deserve to die. And maybe he would have been well within his rights to do it this whole time.
For hours she didn't move, couldn't move as the weight of truth kept her motionless in her seat listening to the nearby monitor taunt her with its incessant beeping. Even when the doctor came in to check on the transfusions, she simply turned her blood shot eyes away, not wanting to be forced to acknowledge his presence. It hadn't taken her long to run out of tears. Not with the little water she'd had. But that didn't get rid of the sadness. It seemed like that was impossible at this point.
Letting out a sigh, she finally sat up in the seat, her muscles screaming for both movement and rest at the same time. There was a rickety metal bed in the corner that she considered crawling into, but she found no shortage of bad things that could happen if she fell asleep now. More importantly, being alone with her thoughts wasn't doing her any favors. She had to get out of the room, if only for a moment.
She glanced at the monitor once more, checking for any anomalies before standing, letting out a much needed stretch before moving out of the room. As she stood in the doorway, taking in the area for the first time, she could see three of the Joker's men sitting only a few feet away to her right on a dusty couch. Their eyes locked on her uncertainly as they tried to figure out what they were supposed to do, darting between her and Dougie sitting in the far corner of the room cleaning one of his guns. Months ago, their attention would have sent her running back to her room, but even in his comatose state, he kept her safe.
Straightening her shoulders again, she took a deep breath before moving slowly towards Dougie. After their last interaction, she wouldn't be surprised if he did try to shoot her. Even hours later, he would still be angry at her insinuations. And if her hunches were right, he had every reason to be.
Instead, when he looked up, it was with a mixture of extreme irritation and apprehension. It had been hours since she'd come out of the room and though he'd rather her just stay there, there had been little news since.
Pulling a nearby rickety crate closer, she flopped down. "He's still out." She answered the unasked question.
Pursing his lips, he turned back towards the gun, using a small brush and shoving it into the gun barrel.
For a long time as she fingered the edges of the dirty jeans which after days, to her dismay, fit much better. She knew that her next words would have to be chosen carefully. But there was no way around what she wanted to know.
"You stitched them…didn't you?"
Dougie visibly flinched, his jaw clenching together as he tried to rid himself of the images that conjured into his mind. Almost immediately he was that scared boy back in that sweltering warehouse running frantically through the levels trying to find something…anything to stop the blood. Now he knew that there was so many more things he should have been worried about: the infection caused by using dirty clothes, the impracticality of using thread ripped from the seams of a coat and a makeshift sewing needle to finish the job. But at the time, all he could think about was the blood and the screaming that would never leave his memory. He had made it nearly 3 levels away trying to find the materials he needed but even the separated floors couldn't stop the screams from echoing in his ear.
Tightening his lips, he let out an unnoticed breath before continuing to clean the gun, not turning to look at her.
She nodded, his silence answering her question better than he ever would. A shiver ran through her as she thought about what it must have been like, but she quickly discarded the image from her mind, not wanting to think about it more than she had to.
"I'm sorry." She started, keeping her eyes glued to her feet. "For…whatever part I had in it. No one should have to go through what you did and I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to help."
There was another awkward silence between them as she glanced around the room, wondering if any of the goons were listening in. But for the most part they had all turned back to the television. So she continued.
"Is that…is that why I'm here?" She asked the question that had been on her mind since the day she'd been taken from the museum. Why her?
Dougie flexed his jaw, taking a moment to compose himself before finally speaking.
"Shouldn't you be in there keeping an eye on him?" He muttered, though she was sure that his tone had softened a bit since their last conversation. Hopefully the change was Dougie speak for 'apology accepted'.
Pursing her lips, she nodded, understanding that there would be no point in continuing the conversation at this point. Giving her tattered shirt a tug to try and force the minimal fabric to cover what it should, she stood and walked back to the office.
Pushing open the door, a part of her expected to be greeted with that annoying nasally voice, or an angry look. But there was nothing. His body still lay exactly the way she left him. Sighing, she flopping back onto the chair, crossing her arms and resting her elbows on the table.
The bird bath she'd taken in the sink did little to make her feel a semblance of clean after days of no shower or changes of clothes. But at least the layer of grime was gone. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she let out an exhausted sigh, allowing her eyes to flutter shut for one blissful, peaceful moment. One moment until her body started swaying weakly on her feet and her eyes shot back open, grabbing the sink to balance herself. It had been over a day now since she'd come back here and she'd yet to catch more than a few minutes of sleep at a time and the deficit was starting to take a toll. She was delirious and on edge. Luckily no one aside from Dougie dared to enter the room and she'd almost shot him at least twice more.
Even her ears were playing tricks on her. The sound of squeaking in the next room caused her to perk up, listening for someone entering the room. But it wasn't the door, the tone was off. Letting out another sigh, she shook her head, hating herself for how crazy she was beginning to feel. The auditory hallucinations were definitely new.
Again the squeaking reached the bathroom door. Louder this time and much longer. It took twice more before she finally stood up straight, turning towards the doorway slack jawed, daring the sound to come again.
Again.
It wasn't a hallucination.
Gasping, she rushed towards the bathroom door, yanking the rickety piece of wood nearly off of its hinges. She knew that sound. It was the same sound that kept echoing in her ear when the doctor was working on the Joker's still body.
Moving into the doorway, she could see his legs swinging slowly off of the metal table not fifteen feet away as he pushed himself up with a low grunt, pausing in a hunched over position as his hair cast a heavy shadow over his lowered face. She wasn't sure if he'd heard her and for nearly thirty seconds she fought with herself about drawing attention to herself or simply waiting until he was ready to look up. Her hands fiddled together nervously as her mouth continued to try and get a sound out. But she finally managed to get a small squeak out.
His head turned only incrementally. She might have missed it if she wasn't staring so hard. But she could tell that he knew that someone was there, waiting for another sound to make out who and what. Like a cat listening for the hint of prey, he waited.
Finally he turned completely, the dim light cast a sickly glow over his pale face. The lack of blood had done a number on him that even the transfusion hadn't yet fixed. The matted green curls hanging heavily across his face did nothing except mirror his lethargic slump. He looked exhausted and slightly disoriented, but he was alive. And best of all, without the makeup slathered across his face, he looked…human.
Sitting atop the table, the Joker looked at her as she stood in the same spot, his brows knitted together in a mixture of confusion and surprise. He had fully expected her to run the minute he'd passed out. Had thought for sure that she would simply push his limp body from the car and drive off with the bit of money he always left stashed in the car. It's what he would have done. Then both she and Gotham would be free of him. But here he was…alive and no worse for the wear. And there she was staring at him with those wide brown eyes, her terrified hands clasped in front of her as she stood rooted in her spot. He wanted to make fun of her for looking so nervous and for bringing him back here when she could have run. And he would have save for the fact that he suddenly felt an inexplicable relief creep up within him. A calm that he hadn't experienced in nearly a week since his plan had gone terribly awry.
He finally cracked a smirk, running a hand through his hair that desperately needed a wash.
"Lookin' a little rough there, cupcake." He broke the silence before letting out a dry laugh, one that didn't reach nearly as deep for fear of popping a stich.
She responded with a small smile letting out a relieved sigh. Opening her mouth, she tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. So instead, she turned back into the bathroom, grabbing a cup, hastily filled with water, and trying to balance it with the makeup tins as she rushed back over to the table.
"How many men?" He questioned in a raspy voice, grabbing the cup from her before she had a chance to set it down.
Pausing with the slipping makeup tins in her hands, her eyes widened in surprise before quickly settling into a passive expression. He had never bothered to ask her anything that wasn't pointless or a setup for a bad joke. But he didn't bother to return the look, only looked straight ahead as she stood nearby. Maybe it was a sign that he wasn't too angry with her.
"Five." She answered softly, setting the makeup down on the table next to him. "Not including Dougie and the doctor."
He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, tossing the plastic cup carelessly onto the floor and using the forearm of his free hand to wipe the excess from his mouth. Glancing over at the makeup on the table next to him, he looked back at her with a tilt of the head.
She seemed to get the hint, taking a slow step forward and grabbing the white tin, looking towards him for any indication to stop. But there was nothing. Removing the top and dipping her fingers, she reached forward, her hands shaking slightly as she decided to start with those cheekbones that she remembered so well. As she swiped the makeup down towards his jaw, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. It was one thing to be able to study his face while he was passed out but this was so much better. She could actually see that young boy she met in the ally so long ago…if she looked past the passive scowl on his face as he sat still. She wanted to tell him that she knew. Ask him so many questions. But now wasn't the time. Not when he'd just woken up. No, right now now she was content with simply knowing that he was hers.
'He's going to kill you'.
Dougie's words rang hollow in her ear, interrupting her happy state with the ever constant reminder that she might not make it out alive now that she'd come here willingly. Like so many before her if the police were to be believed. She liked to think that she'd held out longer than most considering how quickly he seemed to get bored, but she'd never know. The thought saddened her.
As she moved to his forehead with the paint, her eyes caught his inquisitive gaze as he studied the frown that had so quickly pulled away her smile.
"I'm sorry." She said quickly, averting her eyes to avoid having to answer any question that he might ask as her fingers traced his scars.
He lowered his brow, staring at her as her with pursed lips. "For?" He questioned.
'For everything'. She thought to herself before continuing.
"For wanting to go to Shawn's." She lowered her eyes. "You never would have gotten shot if I hadn't wanted to go there." Her voice trailed away.
He stare at her for a long moment, contemplating her reasoning before letting out a grunt that she was almost sure was some semblance of a laugh.
"Oh trust me, sweet cheeks. Watching you dispatch of your…ah…" His hand waved in the air lazily as he tried to think of the word. "Former lover was worth a little scratch." He licked his still dry lips, wagging a playful finger at her that looked out of place against his deathly pale countenance. "I gotta say…I had my doubts about you but you showed him."
She gave a hesitant glance up before shrugging. "He deserved it."
"Now she's got it." He said with a smirk.
"Does this mean you kill me now?" She asked in a sarcastic tone to hopefully cover up any pain the statement riled up.
He let out another grin that faltered with the intense pain in his side. "Sorry doll, I'm a little tired right now. We might have to save your murder for another day."
She had to force herself to still the eye roll that was begging to come out, her hands stilling from applying the makeup. "I don't want to die."
"Well everybody dies." He said with that wide eyed feigned innocence that she hated.
She didn't bother to hide the eye roll this time. "I mean." She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain calm. "I don't want you to kill me."
His grin faded, staring at her for a long moment as he licked his cheeks. "Then why'd you come back?" He said, feeling too exhausted to keep up the charade.
"Because I want. To stay." She said slowly, feeling her anger rise.
"You don't get to have your cake and eat it too. If you wanted to live so bad, then maybe you should have let me die. Hmm? It's nothing personal. It's just that I already said I would." He gave a dangerous smirk.
She was silent, turning her face away from him with a deep, angry breath.
A tight hand on her chin forced her face back towards him. "Now cheerup cupcake." He said with a smack of the lips, his voice returning to its nasally tones. "I know what you're thinking. Even though you've gone and got yourself captured…I'm not mad." He said before smiling. "You're still my favorite toy."
She yanked her chin away from him with afrustrated growl. It was amazing how, even after days of being in a worried limbo, he could still drive her to such intense anger. Stepping just out of arms reach she took the time to push the makeup tins off of the table, watching them clink to the floor before glaring at him. Daring him to do anything about it. But he just sat there, staring at her with pure murder in his eyes as he chewed the inside of his cheeks, his right arm flexing as he coddled his wound.
Letting out a satisfied huff, she spun on her heels, storming out of the room and letting the door slam behind her, earning the confused stares of the few men in the bay. If he wanted to be so difficult, then he could suffer a bit. She glanced over at Dougie who had since sat up, looking at her hopefully.
"He's fine." She muttered to him, storming out of the front and into the cool night air of the junkyard. To her left, one of the men guarding the door glanced at her, shifting his gun as if he was unsure of what to do. But when she flopped down on the ground against the opposite wall, he relaxed, turning back to the horizon though every few seconds he glanced at her nervously.
Turning back towards her fully, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a package of cigarettes.
"Want one?" He offered.
She glanced at him and offered a lazy shake of the head, turning back to the ski and letting out an annoyed huff.
The man shrugged, pulling out his own cigarette and popping it in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a breath, the smoke quickly dissipating in the night air.
"Boss awake?" He questioned, not looking over at her again.
She glanced over at him, unaccustomed to the goons bothering to talk to her. Giving an annoyed purse of the lips, she answered, wrapping her arms around her knees and turning back to the horizon as well.
"Yea."
He let out a snort followed by another cloud of smoke. "I swear he's not ever going down."
'Thanks to me.' She thought to herself with an annoyed roll of the eye, not wanting to converse with the stranger in the least.
"You probably shouldn't talk to me right now." She muttered. "He's not in a good mood."
The goon didn't need further explanation. Sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, he adjusted the gun over his shoulder and made himself comfortable against the wall, his attention turning completely back to the horizon.
Arella watched him out of the corner of her eyes for a moment until she was satisfied that he was done attempting to make conversation. Setting her mouth into a pout, she set her chin on her knees. Wondering if she really wanted to go back into the building.
Inside, Dougie walked into the room where the Joker had pulled himself to a standing position next to the metal table, his gaze focused on the tins still lying on the floor where she had shoved them. Surely there was a way to bend down and grab them without ripping open a stich, but he'd yet to figure it out.
"Little early to be walking around, isn't it?"
He didn't bother to turn around, letting out a loud smack of the lips. "There'll be no living with her while this heals." He grumbled.
Dougie chuckled, bending down slowly to grab the tins off of the floor and setting them on the metal table.
"Then maybe you should go ahead and kill her. Like you keep saying you're going to."
The Joker's attention snapped towards Dougie's face with a suspicious frown, the comment strongly reminiscent of the argument that they'd just had. "Did she go running to you?" He growled.
"No." Dougie scoffed. "I try to avoid interacting with her at all."
He stare at his friend for a while with narrowed eyes before deciding that he was satisfied with the response. He didn't want her to get too comfortable here, and if she was making a habit of making friends with his men then maybe bringing her back alive was a bad idea.
Letting his lips smack together, he sat heavily back onto the table and picked up the tin closest to him, letting out a tired hum. "I like having her around right now."
"Clearly." Dougie said simply, flopping down tiredly in the chair and rubbing his head. Sure, she had been up for days, but so had he. The last couple of days had been hard on all of them, and they still weren't out of the dark yet.
It was quiet for a long moment as the Joker began to reapply the makeup in lazy swipes, grunting when he had to reach at all.
"Where did our little tempest storm off to?" He questioned casually, not turning to look over at Dougie as he shook his head back and forth, using his fingers to mess up his hair just the way he preferred it.
"I don't know. Outside, probably." Dougie said with a shrug.
His fingers froze in midair as he turned quickly to look to his right in shock, another deep frown crossing his face as the monitor nearby reflected his quickening pulse.
"And you let her?" He growled.
"I had more important things to do than babysitting while you were out." Dougie frowned as well, his tone coming calm but strained as he eyed the monitor out of the corner of his eye. "Besides, she's not going anywhere."
He glare at Dougie for a moment, angry at the presumption before letting out a snort through his nose. Muttering to himself, he grabbed the wires attached to his chest, ripping them off and tossing them to the floor as the machine began to go haywire. Gripping the table tightly with one hand, he began to raise himself to a standing position again.
Dougie gave an annoyed roll of the eye that masked his worry. "What are you doing?" He crossed his arms.
"Well, you know what I always say:" The Joker started in a nasally tone that was much to jovial for the anger that displayed across his face; an attempt that immediately faltered to an angry growl. "If you want something done right ya gotta do it yourself." He muttered, not bothering to cast Dougie a second glance as he started to the door, one hand gripping his side. If it were anyone else, he'd be dead.
Dougie's arms uncrossed. "Come on, stop. You just woke up." But it was useless. The door slamming behind him told him that his words meant nothing.
Outside, Arella sat relaxed against the wall in a comfortable silence near the goon who had since tossed his cigarette and gone back to ignoring her. The sound of the door opening caused her to flinch, turning around to see that made up face almost filling the doorway with his bare, broad shoulders as he stood perfectly still. His hands were in fists at his side as he glare at the goon who had immediately straightened up and focused his attention on the horizon, not wanting to be accused of looking at anything inappropriately. Studying the man for a long moment, the joker finally gave a loud suck of the cheeks, slowly turning his attention to Arella who was staring up at him with mouth agape in horror.
She hadn't expected him to follow her, especially not all the way out here. She had assumed that the distance awarded her a certain level of safety with his tenuous stiches. But the idea had been stupid. And even in his weakened state, his presence made her nervous. More so, if one of his stiches managed to break, she would feel beyond guilty.
Before he could say anything, she jumped to her feet, not wanting to make him over exert himself. She wanted to yell at him, but she wasn't stupid enough to do it in front of the goon. Instead, she moved towards him, cringing as he grabbed her neck, yanking her back towards the door with a grunt. His grip wasn't angry though, not like it normally was. She could tell that he was leaning most of his weight onto her. Without a word, he led her back to the room, past the other men, past Dougie who had since returned to his post in the corner. His upright posture looked assured and pain free. But she could tell by the increasing pressure on her neck that his frown hid all the twinges.
As they entered the room, her eyes immediately settled on the makeup tins sitting neatly on the metal table as a reminder of her earlier tantrum. She lowered her eyes, feeling a guilt rise as the door shut behind them.
"I'm sorry." She said softly as he finally released her neck with a grunt, his posture faltering as he moved over towards the bed in the corner of the room. "But I'm not your toy."
Taking a moment to fall back into the bed, he let out a tired sigh, flashing her an annoyed side eye before smacking his lips together. He was truthfully in no mood to argue, even after she'd thrown her hissy fit. It had taken everything out of him to walk outside and get her, and now all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.
"Why don't you ah..." He tilted his head towards the bed before letting his chin come to rest tiredly on his chest. "Come over here and lie down, cupcake." He said in an overly caring tone that told her he did anything but. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
She pressed her lips together, unprepared for that response. On the one hand, all she really wanted to do was crawl into bed next to him now that her nightmare was over and fall asleep next to her Walter. But she knew that he was simply trying to avoid a confrontation and hesitated to let it go. Now was the only time that he was too weak to shut her up by force.
"No." She finally said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
He only stared at her for a long moment, his lips pursed tightly together. He was gonna make her pay for this later. Sighing, he rolled his eyes.
"Ya know." He started in that nasally tone, scrunching his nose together. "A toy isn't the worst thing in the world. "I like toys. And there ain't much I can say that about." He wagged a finger at her. "I mean…who wouldn't like a never-ending source of fun?"
"Toys are disposable…and replaceable." She said with a pout, finally getting to the crutch of her frustration. She had been find with the idea that one day she would be killed and replaced with the next girl. Truly, she had come to terms with the thought. But since Dougie's revelation, she hated the idea as a strange sense of possessiveness replaced the apathy. Killing her was one thing, but she didn't plan on leaving any other way and didn't think that she could handle being replaced.
"Not mine." He looked up at her with a frown, as if offended by the comment.
And just like that, her anger disappeared. Whether he meant to or not, he had put her fears at ease and she finally realized that coming from him, being called a toy wasn't the worst thing in the world and hopefully not much of a statement about her lack of value. It was better than the names she'd heard him call his goons. And while she still didn't appreciate the term, she wasn't going to fault him for being himself. And for now, she was just happy that he was alive.
The madman that had caused so much terror in her city. The same one that had murdered countless people without so much as a bat of the eyelash. The same one that had saved her life in the dark alley all those years ago. No longer was he her captor; a road block that she had every intention of getting rid of whenever the time was right so that she could get back to her life. No, now he was her life. This was her life. And being here felt right. As if everything she'd done in her life had come full circle. She never was supposed to get out of the life she was born into, and though she'd been able to pretend for a long while, the Arella that she missed had returned.
Letting out a soft sigh she finally uncrossed her arms, deciding to change the subject. "I'm not lying down. I don't want to hurt you."
He let out a shallow laugh. "Well that's a first, doll face. Not anxious to get back at me for all those fun months? Hmm?" He teased before laying back onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief.
She shifted, letting a small smile creep onto her face as she moved towards the bed. "Is that an invitation?"
The smirk on his face immediately dropped into a frown as he looked up. He had honestly thought she'd say no, but he wouldn't put it past her now that he thought of it. "Don't do anything stupid, Ella." He growled at her, his hand gravitating to cover his wound.
But she didn't care. Curling up in the small spot between him and the wall, she laid her head down in the crevice of his arm feeling all of the fear and anxiety that she'd been dealing with over the past week fall away. She was comfortable and relaxed. Most of all, now that she really knew who it was that she was curled up next to, she was home. He had ruined her life, taken away everything that she had built for herself in the years that had grandmother had died. But in his own way, he'd also given it back twice over. A part of her had died that night. The part that wasn't ruled by fear and viewed the word with childlike fascination. It had taken years and a psychotic criminal to change that. And her life definitely wasn't all sunshine and rainbows now, but at least she wasn't afraid and she had her Walt. She knew that none of it had been intentional. Even if he physically was the same person. Time and tragedy had changed him into the man that she both feared and needed. But, still, that imaginative 9 year old had been satiated.
He had to know who she was and what he'd meant to her. But she knew the fact that he'd refused to bring it up probably meant that he didn't want to talk about it at all. Never one to be deterred though, she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep it in.
Letting out a sigh, the first noise to break the comfortable silence, she shifted slightly trying to gauge his mood. But he didn't make any indication of being disturbed. No sound or movement.
Closing her eyes, she licked her lips, "I know who you are." She said softly.
That made him flinch. Turning his head, he looked over at her, waiting for her to look up at him questioningly. But she didn't. Just kept her eyes closed to avoid having to explain herself. Smacking his lips together with an annoyed grunt, he turned back to the ceiling. He was too tired to deny it or force her to tell him how.
"Took you long enough, kid." He said calmly. If she'd finally figured it out then good for her. It wasn't going to change anything. Nothing except that he felt a sense of relief creep up that made him frown.
She opened her eyes, lifting her head slightly as a smile crossed her face. She thought that he'd deny it, but the admission made her ecstatic. He ignored her reaction with a frown, rolling his eyes and turning to look in the other direction. She knew that pushing it would only make him angry. So she took the small victory and laid her head back down.
"Thank you." She said finally before closing her eyes again and leaving the topic alone. She was tired. And she could take her time talking all about it when she woke up…preferably in short spurts to avoid getting stabbed. For now, however, she quickly drifted into a much needed sleep.
The silence in the room rang in his ears for what felt like hours as he lay there fluctuating in a state of half sleep. His body remaining unmoved but his mind racing in so many directions at once. There was so much to do and so much time had been wasted while he'd been out. They had to leave this place immediately. And he had to take stock of what supplies Dougie had been able to make it out with. Always so. Much. work. But the openness of it all excited him, probably as much as it aggravated Dougie. He loved being able to start fresh. Most importantly, he was thinking of new and creative ways to punish the police department. They did have so much to pay for at this point. And as soon as he rebuilt and healed, he was going to have the time of his life.
Letting his head roll to the left, he watched her sleep for a moment with a blank expression. Every now and again her body would lightly twitching in response to some unseen stimuli. Idly he wondered if she'd always slept so uneasy. Even before he'd brought her to the hospital. He could remember back to those first few days when he would watch her in the cold cell spasm nearly uncontrollably as she slept. Over time, the movements had slowed in both frequency and intensity, and nearly disappeared altogether whenever he allowed her to curl up next to him. He loved that he could affect her mood…even in sleep. Smacking his lips together he let out a grunt, pulling his arm away from her slowly and standing from the bed with a quiet wince. He told himself it was because he didn't feel like dealing with her outbursts right now, but if he was perfectly honest, he didn't mind those either. They normally proved to be humorous. No. Right now he had decisions to make and he didn't need her curious brown eyes trying to distract him while he did it.
Slinking from the room, he let the door close heavily behind him, settling his face into a casual frown and using his foot to stop it just before it closed with a loud slam.
The men, who had previously been busy watching the small television in the dank room immediately jumped up at the sight of their leader. Two trying to look busy, two standing at attention, and one terrified soul who simply ran out of sight.
The Joker let out a short laugh that sounded more like a growl, letting his eyes roam over the room to rest on the doctor who had already moved to grab his bag from the corner.
"Hey doc." He drawled lazily, his right hand loosely covering the wound. "Wanna help me out?" Without waiting for a response, he moved to the opposite corner of the room that was shielded from both the eyes and ears of the men, followed closely by both Dougie and the doctor.
"You should be resting." Dougie scolded again in a low voice with a frown as if it would do anything to deter the movements.
The Joker gave an exaggerated roll of the eye, smacking his lips together as he lowered himself onto a table top, moving his arm so the doctor could have access to the wound.
"Ya know, Dougie, I'm starting to think that's all you think about is sleep. Some of us do actual work around here." He scrunched his nose.
Dougie rolled his eyes, but cracked a smirk. "Yes. Some of us do. But since you're up and moving around, what's the plan?"
"Leave." He said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Tonight. Can'"
He gave a nod of approval. "May I recommend somewhere sunny? The winter does nothing for me and the men could use some time after the last few days."
The Joker mulled the idea over in his head, wondering if he could think of anywhere he had the desire to go. Nowhere sounded as much fun as Gotham, but he would need to rebuild and recruit while simultaneously staying under the radar for the next few months and the police would be too anxious to take him down right now. Licking his lips, he turned to his right. "Whaddya think, doc? Feel like some…ah…rest and re-lax-ation?"
"There'll never be a vacation as long as you insist on getting hurt." The doctor muttered, pulling a syringe out of his bag filled with clear liquid.
"Oh doc, you wound me." He feigned a pained look as the doctor injected the pain killers before bursting into laughter at his own bad joke. A laughter that was quickly cut off into a pained groan as if he'd already forgotten about the stitches. He quickly collected himself before continuing, his expression returning to that irritated frown.
"Fine." He continued. "We'll leave the country to somewere…sunny." He said the last word as if it was disgusting to him. He was in no mood for a time off and even less enjoyed the idea of somewhere tropical. It all felt like running away. But he was sure he could think of somewhere with men just crazy enough to recruit in the meantime. "Do you still have the contact with the airstrip?"
"I'll have him here in an hour." Dougie turned slightly before stopping as if something else had just come to mind. "What are you going to do about her?" He tilted his head to the doorway.
The Joker eyed the wound on his side as the doctor removed the soaked bandage in order to replace it. It took a long moment before he looked up again, his brows raising as if surprised that Dougie was still there. Licking his lips, he cast a wide eyed glance around the room.
"Who?"
Dougie only rolled his eyes, ignoring the feigned innocence. "I won't have the time or patience to watch her while we're recruiting."
Those innocent brows lowered quickly, his lips smacking together as his chin lowered to his chest
"Fine." He snapped. "I'll take care of it."
Dougie gave a satisfied nod before starting off, knowing there was no point in continuing the conversation. "Everything we salvaged is in the van if you want to look over it."
The Joker chewed his cheeks for a long moment before turning back to the doctor who had started applying a clean gauze. "How bad was it?" He asked in a low, gravelly voice.
"Not bad. Just a lot of blood and a few stitches." The doctor said simply, pressing the bandage onto his side. "The hardest part was keeping your pet out of the way."
The Joker studied him curiously, wondering what she'd been doing or what she'd expected to do in the room. Sometimes she really was ridiculous.
Letting out a soft chuckle, he finally pushed himself off of the table. "Pack up, doc. We're leavin'." He ordered before walking off to take inventory of what was left.
Once most of the van was packed up and he had painfully pulled on a clean shirt and stuffed his knives back into his pocket, he finally returned back to the office room. Letting the door slam behind him so that they were alone in the slightly muted room, he thought that the noise would wake her. But she didn't move a muscle. Just lay completely still in the tight ball that he'd left her almost an hour ago.
Tilting his head with furrowed brows, he studied her, trying to think of the best way to dispatch of his pet. A frown remain plastered to his face as he thought, padding silently over to the bedside. He knew that taking her wasn't an option, not with the heavy recruiting he'd be focusing on for the next few months. It was something he'd known almost the minute he'd seen her there after he'd woken up. But that didn't change the fact that he didn't enjoy having to rush the process.
Giving a loud suck of the cheeks, he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor, thinking. He'd waited so long for this moment and there was no point on wasting it. He could go ahead and use the knife in his hand. Her head was angled just enough to get a clean cut and he'd have the pleasure of watching the life drain from her body. The thought made him smirk as he pictured it. Until he thought of the time it would take. She would surely wake up and glare at him with those eyes. He knew the look well and hated it. That look of fear and betrayal that he was in no mood to see. No. That wouldn't do.
His eyes darted to his right where he could see her gun lying on the table. It would be quick, and he could adequately suppress the sound if necessary. Smacking his lips, he gave an annoyed shake of the head. Maybe too quick.
Frowning, he pondered his decisions, flashing through the reel in his mind that held each option he'd conjured up for killing her whenever she nearly drove him to it. But he found fault in each option. Too long, too quick, his coat had just been cleaned, and his stitches were still tenuous. He did this for a while, muttering to himself as he thought before an annoying realization came to mind: He simply wasn't ready to kill her yet.
If the last couple of nights had turned out differently they'd be back at the hospital right now with her as naked as they day she got there. He wasn't done with her, not even close. And in a perfect world, he force her out of bed and drag her to the van with the rest of the goons. If by some chance she happened to wake up and see him standing over her, twirling the knife held tightly in his grip as his face peered through the dark shadows, he still would.
With a scowl he realized that he was mentally at an impasse. He couldn't stay, she couldn't come, and he had no desire to kill her tonight. Letting out an angry growl, his grip tightened around the knife before throwing it onto the bed beside her.
He spun on his heels, storming out of the room loudly and muttering to himself. The police were going to pay for this. Oh were they. But for now, he had work to do.
*****OMG, sooo much happening in this chapter...emotionally. Even cooler, only 1 more chapter to go! Man, it's been a long ride. But I'll be posting the last chapter pretty quickly cause it's all done and shiny. :) Poor Arella, that was one heck of a way to have to find out, right? We've known since the beginning how Arella felt about the whole interaction, and we know now how Dougie felt about what happened and why he's such an a-hole sometimes, but how do you guys think Joker feels about it? Does he care?
Once again, thanks for sticking with me and THANKS to those who took the time to review! I love you guys and hope you enjoyed. See you in a couple of days for the final chapter. :)